Of Needles
by Skull Bearer
Summary: From this prompt in the kinkmeme: AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive. Erik and Charles  respectively  are a Dominant and Submissive pair that find each other after thinking the other is dead. Full fill is inside.
1. Of Needles

**Of Needles**

_From this prompt in the kinkmeme: _

**_AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive_**  
><strong><em><br>Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there. _**  
><strong><em><br>Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive. _**  
><strong><em><br>Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.  
><em>**

**_And then Charles pulls Erik from the water  
><em>****_  
>TL;DR: Erik and Charles (respectively) are a Dominant and Submissive pair that find each other after thinking the other is dead.<em>**

_I have never written anything like this. I mean, this AU even for me. But it allows me to torture characters I love in the name of giving them a happy ending, and if that doesn't sum up every slash fic I've ever written, nothing does. _

_And I get to bring in a reference to Destiny, and I rock the Mystique/Destiny femmslash._

_ And I get to write Sebastian Shaw, who's theme song is 'When You're Evil' by Voltaire and who has high-fived Fistandantilus and Josef Mengele on **my most evil fuckers ever written **list._

_ I love writing really sick bastard sociopaths :)_

"Really, it's doing you both a favour," The needle presses against the back of Erik's neck, the weak place between vertebra and skull. "What good would you be to anyone? If you couldn't even protect your own family, what good would you be to a sub? He'd be better off dead than in your hands." Schmitt hasn't pressed the needle in yet, standing back and watching Erik thrash and try and twist away from the hard glass tip. There isn't a scrap of metal in the room.

Erik pulls up against the straps so hard he could barely breath, and still can't escape the light brush of the needle. He can feel the other boy in his mind, frantic and _pushing_ as though he wanted to climb into Erik's mind completely through their link before Schmitt destroyed it.

"And you, such a distraction makes you weak. Such potential as you have, and you'd prefer to squander it on these silly human games. Oh my boy, that won't do now will it?" Schmitt bends down beside him, only inches away. Erik tries to twist his head away, anything not to look at him. The straps hold him in place.

"Please." The words feel like barbed wire, taste like surrender.

Schmitt and his people took everything from him, everyone. Why should this be different? The warm presence he'd felt in his mind since he could remember, the reminder that he wasn't alone, that there was someone out there waiting for him. That there might be something after this. Something, someone worth living for. Erik had though, foolishly perhaps, that because where ever the boy might be, he was out of Schmitt's reach, that he might be able to keep him.

Foolish.

"Now, why are you begging? Why do you care? Have you met this boy? Why do you want a snivelling, dependant brat clinging to you forever, when there is so much you can accomplish? Weakness." He taps Erik on the forehead, and the needle digs in a little. "Is what we are getting rid of here."

The boy, Erik doesn't know his name, but can feel the shape of him in his mind, a completeness beyond the need for names, is screaming, wherever he is, and trying to project comfort as he had for so many starving nights in the ghetto, and days in Schmitt's laboratory. Erik's breathing shudders and he can't stop the tears.

Schmitt tuts, "One day, you'll understand, my boy." He presses the needle in.

The link shatters in white and tearing and so much pain. The metal of the camp screams in Erik's voice.

* * *

><p>"Again?" Raven's at his door, leaning against it. With the light behind her, Charles can't see what shape she's wearing.<p>

He rubs his face, still damp. She walks over to the bed and climbs in, putting an arm around his shoulders. Charles lets her pull him in and closes his eyes, trying to block out the sense of the huge great terrifying world he is alone in now. More tears slip free.

Raven doesn't say anything, just squeezing his shoulder, but he can hear her thoughts, unformed, being glad that she's not him. Alone, a telepath with a connection to every mind but the one which matters the most. After all this time, the irony grates painfully.

"You couldn't have done anything." Raven's done this routine a thousand times since - Since. She knows the script.

Charles' line is to say he could have tried, could have done more to save the boy who'd been his other half since they were born, could have gone to Germany or wherever it was, could have- could have- and then Raven would shoot down his arguments and try and comfort him.

Charles is so sick of the script.

"I know." He'd been a child, they'd both been children. "I tried."

"I know you did." Raven had been the first to find him, trashing and screaming on the floor and going into shock. It had been her who'd woken his mother and Kurt, and phoned an ambulance. He would have died without her. He'd hated her for that for a long time, when he'd seen the pitying looks from the doctors and other patients when they realised what had happened, their hands going to collars and keepsakes from their partners, glad they were not him.

Coming to England had been the beginning of healing, or as much healing as was possible. He wasn't been alone here. The war had left many bereft, dressed in black and holding tattered mementos from those that had been theirs. The feeling of their grief was soothing, awareness that, in this at least, Charles was not alone.

"We could always-"

Charles shakes his head hard.

"You don't know he's dead."

The pain is as sharp as that first morning, when he'd woken with the fleeting connections of his telepathy and nothing else. "He's dead."

Raven is quiet, rubbing his shoulder, her thoughts a jumbled _it's not fair why Charles of all people_. Her outrage makes Charles give her a poor smile.

"And do you know the worst part?" He hugs his legs, talking to his knees. Raven shakes her head. "I'm glad." His tears are blood-hot. "The things they were doing to him, it - would have been kinder-" his voice fails, and Raven draws him into a hug.

"You're not alone." Charles gives a muffled snort, and Raven brings his head up until she's looking him in the eye. "Not really, you know that. I'll always be there for you."

_It's not the same_. He doesn't need to say it, they both know it's true. And one day Raven will find her other half and it would be the height of selfishness to cheat his sister of out her happiness because he had been robbed of his. She's never said anything to him, but he's seen her searching the faces of the crowds in Oxford for that one woman he's seen in her mind. He crept into her mind once, arguing that the breach of privacy was allowable on behalf of a concerned brother making sure she would be taken care of, and had come away with a sense of the quiet strong presence in Raven's mind, someone who would follow her and be hers while caring for her in turn.

He touches the remains of his link gingerly, it feels like raw flesh and electrified wire, hurt and hurting. He remembers the feeling of that brilliant presence, bright and shining and sharp, like razorblades wrapped in fireworks. The sheer exhilaration of belonging to someone who felt so wonderful.

"Will you be able to sleep? Or do I need to get your thesis and read to you?" It's a poor joke, but Charles smiles.

"I keep wanting to get up and correct it." Charles' work is his. Not to be taken away, and at least there he's more than a pitiful submissive who lost his dominant too early and didn't have the sense to die.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Erik feels like he's seeing the world through a window. He can see everything, can speak and act and hurt (oh, can he hurt), but everything is... detached, not quite real. Like being a ghost, except for the anger. There at least, Erik feels alive.<p>

He's still riding the high when he leaves the banker's office, the man's screams still ringing in his ears. Hate at the pathetic, snivelling fool of a human that almost makes Erik glad to be a monster, as long as he is not classed along such refuse, and rage at Schmitt. It's so familiar it feels like an old friend, as comfortable as the metal around him.

The rage is fading as he approaches his rented room, despite his efforts to prolong it. The flames burning out and just leaving ashes, and the dark coldness from which numb detachment is the only escape.

Erik rests his head against his door as he first fumbles with the keys then gives up and orders the door open. The briefcase is dropped on the floor, the coat is left on top of it, and Erik sits on the bed. Control. He hunches up, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes until stars burst. Control. He can't let himself break down. He knows where Schmitt is now, all he needs is a train to the airport, a plane and then he'd be there, in Argentina, and he'd find Schmitt and - and- and Erik really hasn't got that far. Possibly he'd go mad and tear the man to pieces with his bare hands. Or, if he does maintain control, he could give Schmitt a demonstration of just how well he's taught Erik, and turn the rage to a more fitting purpose.

It's not really working. It feel like there's a huge chunk of Erik missing (which there is of course) like someone carved out his chest, front to back, and he's been left with a huge hole through which the wind blows cold.

Focus, control. Come on, get up. Even the sketch he'd done of Schmitt isn't enough to rouse more than a flicker, and when he stands it feels like everything weights several times more than normal.

Sometimes Erik would like nothing better than to lie down and sleep. It's hard to walk when every step hurts. He tries not to think of what happens when it's over, when he's enjoyed Schmitt's last look of terror and avenged the mother he had never bid farewell and the boy he had never held in his arms. There wouldn't be much left then. Schmitt had destroyed almost everything he had, and with his death, Erik would have finished his work.

Erik doesn't wish the world was different. He can't think of a more pointless subject to speculate on, or a more painful one. But sometimes the thoughts creep in anyway, when he's tired and both control and focus, rage and numbness, have failed. The warm whisper in his mind, the quiet love and gentleness Schmitt had destroyed like he had Erik's mother and for even less reason.

The rage returns, Erik takes a deep breath and starts to gather the few things he needs. He has his lead.

* * *

><p>Charles doesn't drink often. After seeing his mother turn to the bottle after his father died, Charles is not about to repeat her mistake. But tradition is tradition, in Oxford more than anywhere else. He almost collapses into his seat when the young woman invites him, the alcohol making everything pleasantly fuzzy. He suspects Raven is going to fetch him in a moment, before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.<p>

The woman's words shock him sober, quickly focusing to block out the worst of the intoxication and focus on her words.

It all moves quickly after that. It's been a long time since anything's electrified Charles like this, and that's half the reason Raven eventually agrees to accompany McTaggert, just being glad her brother is behaving like her brother again. It's easy to get lost in the enthusiasm, to no longer feel so alone, or so useless. later he'd look back and wonder if he should have seen the warning signs, the barely hidden hostility he'd overlooked in favour of finally being able to _do something_.

The enthusiasm lasted just long enough for Charles to pick up Sebastian Shaw's file, know thy enemy. Whoever Shaw was, it would be up to Charles and Raven to stop him and whoever he was working with.

The name Schmitt makes him shiver, and the references to Auschwitz are enough to make him put down the file. Not this. The excitement is gone, and Charles rubs his face before continuing stubbornly. This man is his enemy, thrice over now. Charles remembers following the Nuremburg trials in '45 and '46, the Nazi hunts in the following years, cumulating in Eichmann's trial last year, it hadn't been much, but it was something knowing justice, however small, had been done, and that the tortured boy he loved might rest more peacefully now.

If Shaw was one of them, then it would be... proper and fitting... for Charles to be the one to stop him. To hand out justice for the one he loved, and have done something of use to him in this life.

* * *

><p>Erik barely dares to breath, is sure everyone can hear his heart hammering against his ribs. The water makes his grip on the knife slippery, but no matter. It's been so long, and he's so close he can almost taste it. The moment the disaster of his life has been leading to for twenty years. The monster strikes down its maker, and all has come full circle. The fact that the monster in the tale walked into the snow afterwards is not something Erik spares much thought on.<p>

He shifts his grip on the knife as he creeps up towards the voices on deck, the best to let it fly when the right moment came. Rage so focused he can feel each molecule of the metal tremble for his command.

It's not a coin and it's not a glass needle, but killing Shaw with a Nazi blade has its own irony, and right now Erik just wants him dead with a fierceness that almost approaches despair.

"Herr doctor."

Erik realises a split moment later that he's made a terrible mistake. His imaginings of this moment had always been modelled on Frankenstein, and the appropriate horror in Shaw's eyes when he discovers his monster has tracked him down at last. There's nothing of that here, just cold amusement, and that voice. It goes straight through Erik like the wind, and for a moment he's twelve and small and scared and alone in his mind for the first time. "_Der kleine Erik Lensherr._"

He cries out as glass fingers dig through his, like a bond gone horribly wrong, then he's back in the laboratory, and he's watching his mother die Shaw is driving a knife into his arm there's a needle is his brain and he's hearing the boy he should have protected die alonealonealonepainpainpain-

The knife flies almost of its own accord.

The woman turns to diamond when she catches it, and the screaming in Erik's head stops. He is still staring at Schmitt when he's thrown overboard, Shaw who's still smiling like a lion facing a mouse armed with a toothpick.

Erik made a mistake. Victor Frankenstein was a man, while Schmitt is the king of all monsters.

* * *

><p>Charles can feel the woman digging at his defences, trying to find a way in. It's a more offensive use of telepathy and the best Charles can do is hammer up the highest walls he can to keep her out. The thought of the damage she could do if she got inside makes him shudder.<p>

The soldiers on the boats stand little chance against the waterspout sent at them, and Charles can feel Moira about to give to order to turn around and leave before they all get killed, when he sees it. Feels it beyond the diamond woman's blocks. "There's someone else out there."

It's another mutant, if the anchor is any indication. The ship is torn to pieces and Charles gets a flash of him as the diamond walls falter. For a moment. For a moment there's light and it's like Charles has remembered how to breathe for the first time in twenty years . It drives Charles against the railing, then he's up and running, shouting something incoherent and almost knocking Raven over before dragging his coat off and jumping into the water where the submarine's already passing under the ship.

* * *

><p>It's slipping away. Twenty years, twenty years of work. His powers leaving grooves in the shell of the submarine, but nothing else. It drags him underwater for a moment, and Erik snatches another breath before being pulled under.<p>

He can feel it, and he'd scream denial because it won't stop. Everything he has, twenty years pent up hate and despair and rage and _it's not enough_. He failed to protect his mother, the boy who'd been his, everyone. Everything. He can't even avenge them. The submarine is too big to raise, the propeller to distant to tear out.

He's vaguely aware of a splash, the sound distorted underwater. His lungs are burning and he's being pulled further and further from shore. _I will not fail, I will not give up_-

Then warm arms come up around him, and-

_Calm your mind_

Erik gives a cry that come out in bubbles, the warmth in his mind, winding around him over and over as it had a thousand times when he was a child, in his home, in the ghetto in the camp. the submarine slips away and Erik wonders if this is the end, if this is some hallucination brought on by drowning-

He draws in a breath, and the salt water burns his throat. He thrashes, kicks out and is pushed up. _Calm, please_. The voice is just as warm, with a hint of tears. Erik coughs, and more bubbles escape. _Oh, my own_. The voice is tears and laughter. _Please don't drown._

Erik's head breaks the surface, and he coughs again, dragging in a breath and retching up sea water. The voice, the presence, the... the... him. He's behind Erik, holding him around the waist and keeping him above water.

_I've got you_. "I've got you." A choked noise, a hand comes up to touch Erik's cheek. "I've got you." A sob.

Erik pushes away, turns. The boy - the man, a man his age. With dark hair hanging around his face and eyes that shine blue even in the darkness, face wet with saltwater and tears, hands coming up to cup Erik's face.

"I-" Erik can't even manage that, his starved hands reaching out and grasping wet clothes. _I thought you were dead_.

The man - _Charles, I'm Charles-_ gives a choked cry and then everything is confused, hands and bodies and minds and seawater as they hang onto each other as closely as possible without drowning. Tangle in each others' minds as far as they can reach. Erik's face is pressed Charles' soaked shirt, he gives a soft cry, holding.

_Never let go_. He has no idea who thought it, it doesn't even occur to him to ask how they're speaking like this. _Never. Not again._

* * *

><p>Somehow they stay afloat long enough for one of the lifeboats to reach them. Everything is dizzy and incoherent as they're pulled aboard the ship and given blankets. Erik looks at his for a moment, eyes wide and slightly crazed, before wrapping himself in it and helping Charles with his. His hands are trembling slightly, he's shaking all over in shock and Charles is no better. He's pulled in against Erik and everything is wild explosive warmth as though the twenty years worth had just been stored up and were now piling in on them both.<p>

Charles closes his eyes and buries his face in the side of Erik's neck. _Calm_. The eye of the storm. Still. Freeze this moment forever. This is the best moment of your life. Erik hears it, and he manages something like a laugh, _No, better, always better from this moment. Never fear again, I will protect you. Never be alone again, I will be there for you. Never want for anything again, beautiful. My own._

Words can't do this justice, Charles opens his mind lets Erik see, the gloomy childhood with he and Raven the only points of light, the great, world tearing loss of the bond, the hospital. The twenty long, empty years. It pours back, open, half afraid, knowing it has to be now or he will never be able to do it. Flashes of early years, a family, torn apart, everything stripped away until Erik was completely alone, the driving rage to destroy the man who'd destroyed him. Wild joy so intense Erik didn't know how to control it. You. You. I thought you were dead. I would have mourned you forever.

Charles' head is pulled up and Erik kisses him so hard it almost hurts. _We will-_ the thought fragments, twenty years is a long time, too long to be crossed so suddenly. _But we will_. Erik insists, his resolve is all warm metal, like the rest of him. Charles wants to curl up around him and go to sleep. _It's okay_. He answers, pressing closer. There's no such things as close enough. _Everything's going to be fine_.

He feels Erik's mind break away, going back to the sea and the submarine. Charles breaks the kiss, cupping his face with both hands. "Don't, not of him." _He can't hide forever, he'll be found and stopped and I will be there with you every step of the way._ "Not now."

Erik nods, and though he's still shaking slightly, he smiles, just a quirk of the lips Charles knows is going to become very familiar. His fingers trace out Charles' cheekbones and chin, over his eyes and slightly swollen lips, a shuddered breath as warmth turns to burning and want so long untouched, and Erik closes the space again, Charles's hands knotting in his hair. He's crying again, or maybe he hadn't stopped and is only just noticing.

"Charles?"

They pull back, Erik bristles for a moment before recognising Raven from Charles' memories. Raven is staring at them, eyes wide. She's not stupid, and Charles can see her face light up. He gives her a helpless, broken, unbearably happy grin and she shrieks and looks about to hug them both before backing away at Erik's alarmed expression. She's broadcasting happiness so loudly Charles can't understand why no one else is picking up on it. She backs up a step. "Later." She points at them. "Absolutely later."

"Absolutely." Charles manages.

"Your sister is insane." Erik's voice is still hoarse from inhaling seawater, his accent a soft hint.

Charles just grins at him, too insanely happy to speak, either out loud or in their own heads. Erik smiles back, that same quirk, then leans in. A kiss on his lips, on his forehead, on each closed eye, and Charles is tucked away in Erik's arm, head under chin, one hand rubbing his back through the blanket and layers of wet clothes.

_You didn't even stop to take them off?_ Slightly amused, slightly scolding. It feels so good it almost hurts.

"I wasn't going to lose you go again." Chares murmurs, eyes starting to drift closed.


	2. Wars or Hands of Time

**Wars or Hands of Time**

_Yeah, it's not like I haven't got Diaspora and Present Perfect to write, or two original pieces, or university to prepare for. Nooo, I'm writing this. Hope you enjoy it. Featuring actual sex and seriouslyoverprotective!Erik.  
><em>

It's not a moment to think. This is a moment to stop. A moment Erik has never allowed himself to have, to stop running was to allow everything to catch up, he had to be forever one step ahead, moving so fast the grief and pain could not devour him. For the first time in twenty years, Erik can rest.

The leather of the seat is warm despite the night, and car a warm hum around him. Raven, the beautiful blond woman he has seen turn blue through Charles' eyes, smiled at him when she took the front seat beside a woman he doesn't know yet.

_Moira, her name is Moira_. Charles is curled up against him, his voice warm and sleepy.

Erik cards his fingers through Charles' hair, refusing to think any further. This is not the first time his world has been turned on its head. It is the first time it has ever felt this _good_. This ridiculously, absurdly, deliriously good that Erik would let everything just go hang in favour of just staying here and enjoying it for just a bit longer.

_Mine. Mine._ Charles smells of the sea and his clothes are still damp. Erik's still in his wetsuit, the Moira woman stared at him and asked if there was an address they could pick his clothes up from. He'd been so stunned he'd actually given it.

Charles shifts, turning up so Erik can kiss him again. They stay there, breathing against each other, eyes closed. _I will not go anywhere without you. Where you go, I go. No matter what we face, I will protect you. You will never hurt or hunger or be alone again. I will not allow you to be taken from me. You belong to me entirely, and in return you will have any part of me you wish._

He doesn't know how much the young man is receiving through the bond, but he hopes the wild protectiveness and love is understood. Charles shifts again, Erik kisses him, and realises he's fallen asleep.

_Well, sleep well, with no dreams._ Erik closes his eyes again and leans back against the seat. There's too much to think about, and Erik doesn't want to think about any of it just yet. There's Schmitt's escape, and the revelation that he is not a monster after all, but part of a strange new group he knows nothing about, and that he's beginning to suspect everyone he's met so far including Charles is part of some government agency.

"What was that about?" The Moira-woman asks in a soft voice almost lost in the noise of the car.

He opens his eyes a little, watching the two women in the rear-view mirror.

"Long story." There's nothing to read in a face of someone who can change it at will. "But that's Charles' Dominant."

"And he was doing... what in the water? And he's a mutant too?"

Raven shrugs, Erik notices that neither she or Moira appear to be wearing collars. Dominants as well? Or just alone? "Apparently."

"You don't know?"

"Really long story." A pause, then again, softer. "Charles has been looking for him for a long time."

Raven glances at the mirror and meets his eyes, then turns around in her seat and smiles at him. Erik looks at her, trying to see through the face she's wearing, then suspicion is for once too tiring to hold up and he smiles back at her a little. Whoever she is, she's like him, and she loves Charles. That's enough to trust her, at least for now.

He's almost fallen asleep by the time the car pulls up, Erik sits up and rubs his eyes, while Raven gets out and opens their door. She looks about to wake Charles when she appears to remember he isn't simply hers anymore and looks at Erik. Erik smiles, and picks Charles up. The young man isn't heavy, and with the simple act of holding him in his arms Erik feels something break inside himself. Something hot and desperate is trying to wrench free from inside him and run. He holds Charles tightly, a whisper to get out and _run_, that he has been given back something he had never thought would be his again, something sweet and wonderful and vulnerable as an exposed heart, and he has to run. Now. Because every moment he stands here open and exposed is a moment in danger, in an alien place with alien people in a world where the living hide knives behind their hearts and all the good people are dead. It's a feeling so close to panic that Erik can't even move, just standing there in the parking lot while the Moira woman and Raven and group of others he can't name stare at him.

_Shh_. Charles shifts, rubbing his head under Erik's chin.

Erik helps him stand, and Charles leans against him, arms around his waist, eyes still closed. _All good. No danger. Know these people. Friends._ Erik would snort, but it's hard to under the barrage of warm feelings and comfort Charles is projecting. The tension unwinding from him like a knot in his spine untangling. Charles looks up and the streetlights are reflected a thousand times in his eyes. _Take me inside?_

* * *

><p>Raven keeps trying to catch his eye, but Charles just smiles at her and she sighs, mouthing <em>tomorrow<em>. He nods, letting Erik steer him to the room Moira's allocated them. She's staring at them with some confusion, but hopefully Raven will explain things.

Charles is pulled back into Erik's arms the moment the door closes and clicks locked.

_Nice trick_. It's completely dazed. Erik's mouth is on his the next moment, all heat and teeth while his hand brush up the sides of Charles' neck to trace his cheekbones, contrastingly gentle. Then down to his shoulders, stroking and grasping and afraid to let go in case Charles disappears the next moment.

_I'm not going to_. His hands rubs circles between Erik's shoulder blades, all tension under the wetsuit. _I'm not going anywhere_.

_No_. Erik's hands just hold on tighter. _No. Never_. He turns his head to deepen the kiss, hot and wet and tongue that sends shivers down both their spines and makes Charles rock up against him.

Then apart, and panting, sharing breath. Erik's face is all sharp angles, disordered by emotion, blue-grey eyes gleaming. Charles runs his hands up the edges of his shoulders, over his neck, to press at his temples and go in wordless assurance that he's _here_, they're both here, neither of them are going away again. This manages to calm Erik when nothing else does -_how can you assure someone whose lost everything that they won't lose you too? -_ and he sighs, lowering his head to press their foreheads together. He's still not convinced, but for one night- Schmitt doesn't know where they are and for now the government agents don't seem hostile-

For the first time since Charles first held him underwater, they separate. Charles' hands ache empty and Erik arm jerks up in an aborted movement to touch again. He sighs, smiles a little and the rest of the world around them filters back in. Charles' clothes are sticking to him unpleasantly and Erik's still wearing his wetsuit.

_I look ridiculous_. Erik looks around for somewhere to get changed.

"Stay here." Charles runs his fingers over Erik's chest. _It's nothing I won't - I mean, I will eventually-_ he smiles nervously.

Erik nods, and pulls Charles over to the bed. One bed, thank you Moira, Charles doesn't know where to be excited or scared, he's suddenly unable to look at Erik, staring down at the bed instead. The blinding joy has worn off and Charles is terrified he going to do something wrong. By some blessing, he's gotten a second chance, and if he does something to ruin this - There were classes for this, for Submissives but Charles never went, considering it torture to prepare for something that would never be his- "I'm sorry, I've never done this before." He takes a deep breath, "I never thought I'd- That it wouldn't be-" Words consistently fail, and he shuts up and stares at the blanket.

Erik's hands close around his, raising them off the bed. Erik holds them there, waiting until Charles meets his eyes. Then, not breaking eye contact, he raises them to his lips and kisses each palm gently.

And it feels like something's cracked, and Charles is fighting off tears again. Erik smiles, lowing Charles' hand but not releasing them. "I know." His voice is smoother than before, even and deep, with that same hint of an accent. "There was no time. And I believed you gone." His eyes flicker, and Charles feels his mind pull violently away from some dark pit of memory. His thumbs trace small circle on Charles' palms. "I love you. I will not be... what you might want." _Damaged, so damaged, with blood covered hands_. "But I will love you. I will protect you, and honour you, and care for you as I should." Erik swallowed, shifting on the bed until they're barely inches apart, hands held between them. "I couldn't imagine I would have another chance, but I will do... everything I can... to be what I should be to you." It's the same fear in his eyes, a terror of messing up a chance he hadn't dared dream of.

Charles leans in and kisses him before he loses his nerve. "You're all I could ever want."

Erik smiles, touches his lips. "I doubt it." _Everything for you. You deserve everything good in the world and I am most certainly no longer one of them_.

There are no words for that so Charles just takes Erik's presence in his mind and reflects it back to him, all brightness and fire and so much good Erik's words burn away.

He's hugged again, "And I am hardly perfect either." Charles runs a hand through his hair. "I haven't had any training to speak of, I've lived alone for - for too long." Twenty years, it seems even longer, looking back on it. "I'm probably not much good at taking orders, and - I'll do my best. I love you. I just - I hope you-"

"What makes you think I want anyone but you?" Erik cups his face and rubs a thumb over his lips. "What makes you think I would want- some sort of toy, when I can have you? We were created for each other, you and I."

* * *

><p>"It won't be easy." Charles runs a hand through his hair again, it's starting to stand up, coarse with salt.<p>

Erik shakes his head, the rewards for this make any possible trouble seem absurd. He moved mountains in his search for Schmitt, he'll do ten times as much for this. He'd do anything, give up the search, take Charles away somewhere Schmitt and the agents can't find them and stay there forever. Anything. He would have bargained his soul away for a chance like this, the warning is laughable.

"You are mine." A statement, a reminder.

Charles smiles, staring down at his hands, for once no answer but contentment through the bond. Erik kisses his forehead again, tasting salt. "Now, help me off with this." he turns, letting Charles reach the zipper of the wetsuit. The command comes so easily, and Charles obeys at once, nuzzling his hair and sliding the zip down the base of his spine. Erik closes his eyes, following to bond to see himself through Charles' eyes, avidly devouring the exposed skin. Charles slides his hands under the clinging fabric, and starts easing it off, stroking gently.

Erik sighs at the contact, then stiffening when Charles' hand runs over the first scar, running from left shoulderblade to his backbone, he pauses, then gently kisses the ridged flesh. He does the same with the next one, and the next, easing the wetsuit off until it's loose and Erik's back is bare.

Erik shifts and lets Charles finish, pulling it down over his chest and arms. Fingers trailing after, pressing kisses here and there. Erik stops him by the time he's bare to the waist, as Charles sits on the floor to finish the job, looking down at him, the messed hair, the shining eyes, the beautiful, deliriously happy face and with streaks of salt from seawater and tears, the ruined clothes. No matter what happens, no matter how bad the future might still turn out to be, there has been this moment. Whole and entire. Everything about it is good.

Charles smiles, a little nervously. "Do you want me to-" Erik lifts his hips, letting Charles pull the rest of the wetsuit off. He's wearing nothing underneath and is half hard already. Charles looks at him, between his legs, and his cheeks flush, looking from under his trailing hair, eyes wicked and eager. He licks his lips and a hot rush of lust burns through the bond from both of them. "Do you want me to-" Charles swallows, Erik sees his throat constrict, "I haven't done this before."

Erik shakes his head. "Take your clothes off."

Charles gives a brilliant smile that makes Erik feel dizzy just looking at him, and tugs off his jacket, throwing it absently over his shoulder. He only bothers to undo two buttons of his shirt before pulling it over his shoulders, revealing bare pale skin, unmarked and smooth, stretching to show muscles and ribs as Charles arches to pull his head free. He's about to start on his trousers when Erik stops him, wanting to draw this out and enjoy the view.

This is so insanely lucky Erik can't believe this is actually happening to him. The most beautiful young man he's ever seen is kneeling on the floor in front of him, in nothing but his trousers. His edges are soft, his frame slender, shoulders sloping gently, held up by beautifully defined collarbones. Not much defined muscles, no scars. No marks. Erik runs his hand over one shoulder, the skin is as soft as it looks, and rubs a thumb over one nipple, smiling when Charles shivers. Only a light dusting of hair, running down to the hollow of a navel and down.

Erik's returns to cupping Charles' chin, thumb dipping into his mouth, over swollen, red lips. Charles bites down gently and smiles when Erik pulls away to let him finish undressing, eyes running over him. "I'm the lucky one, my friend."

He kicks off his shoes in impatience and the trousers join the shirt and jacket on the floor, then Charles is kneeling again, stark naked, leaning in to rub his face against Erik's cock. Erik fingers knot in his hair, skin prickling.

* * *

><p>Erik smells of heat and metal and the sea, and he's making Charles' mouth water. Still, he's had no training, and he wants this to be so very good. "I'm probably not going to be very good at this."<p>

_Oh for the love of- _Erik's hands knot in his hair, pulling, his cock is iron hard against Charles' lips. _Nothing to compare it to anyway - never had time - never wanted anyone-_ Another tug, impatient. Charles opens his mouth and swallows.

Erik's pleasure goes off in his head like fireworks, and Charles is hard and aching even more than before. He works his mouth down as far as he can, and hears Erik give a strange half gasp- half laugh, fingers stroking circles in his hair, toes curling in the thick carpet. _And you doubted- oh please yesyesyesyes_. Charles sucks, trying not to gag, and groans Erik's pleasure echoing in his mind. He could work Erik to orgasm and come himself, just like this, untouched, from the sensation cycling between them. Erik makes an incoherent noise and pulls at his hair. Charles releases him reluctantly, giving one last lick and running his tongue over his lips, taste of sweat and pre-come.

"Up." Erik's voice is strangled, skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, eyes bright. Charles stands, half conscious of his own erection, pressing against his stomach. Erik reached down and strokes him, once, twice, and lets go. Charles keens and broadcasts _want_ so loudly Erik laughs. His disbelief is deafening, he still can barely believe they're here, that this is actually happening. Charles understand completely as he's urged to straddle Erik's lap, legs apart, Erik's cock nudging against his backside, he's here, and he's wanted and desired and _belongs_, and not only that, but it's by someone as gorgeous and stunning as Erik, with his skin golden from the sun, all muscles and sinew, slender as a knife. And he thinks _Charles_ is the beautiful one.

"You are." Erik breathes against the hollow of Charles' throat, then lifts his fingers to Charles' lips. "Suck."

_Yesyesyesyesyes_ He takes in four fingers and almost gags. Erik laughs, sharp and with edge of something desperate. _I'm not going anywhere_. Charles sucks and licks. _We will be able to do this again and again. We can do nothing else tonight, if you want_.

_Yes._ Everything in Erik is focused on that, even as his spare hand goes to tease at his opening. Charles moans again around Erik's fingers, rutting up against him. _Please._

"Please what?" Erik gasps, pulling his fingers free and using them to work him open. "Out loud."

"Please-" What? Sir? Master? Then Erik's fingers find a spot inside him that makes fireworks go off behind his eyes. He groans.

"Erik." Is whispered in his ear. "My name is Erik. Say my name."

"Please, please Erik-" Erik's fingers twist inside him and everything's fireworks again. "_Please_-"

"Good. Oh so good." Murmured against his neck. Erik pulls his fingers free and takes hold of Charles' hips, easing him down, taking his cock inside him.

Charles has to fight not to start projecting, it's too much, hard and intense and hot and clenching through both of them. He can stop from making a keening noise at the back of his throat.

"Let them hear," Erik's panting, each breath a gasp as he encourages Charles to ride him, up almost entirely out, then down again, and again. "I want them to know I have a beautiful," rise, gasp, "responsive," down, groan, Charles' head drops forwards, sweating, hair in his face "wanton," he can't hold it back and cries out as Erik finds that place inside him again, "eager Submissive."

"_Please_!" Charles doesn't even know what he's begging for any more, just that everything is too much and he can't control it. Erik's hand wraps around his cock and strokes him, his cry this time is completely incoherent.

"And that- you're _mine_." Erik's head falls back and his hips thrust up, voice dying away to a groan and a sigh. Even his thoughts starting to lose shape and form, just pure simple _want_.

It's impossible to separate their thoughts, or whose feelings belong to whom, everything is hot and desperate and wanting, fucked and fucking, hands grabbing at each other ravenously, locked together, gasping into each other's mouths, minds too entangled to be able to separate, lost in bliss while their bodies struggle to completion in a burst of heat and white and - _everything_. Too much. Orgasm multiplied to blindness in the feedback loop.

Charles opens his eyes slowly, Erik is looking at him, smiling proudly. _Just when I didn't think it could get better-_ Charles thinks, and Erik rolls them over until they're on their sides, facing each other. Charles is sore and sticky and aching in a number of strange places, and they're both covered in sweat and seed. They should really wash. Then Erik starts rubbing Charles' back and the world starts getting foggy around the edges. Foggier.

_Sleep?_ He suggests hopefully.

He sees Erik's mind going to the their bathroom, considering, then decides against moving. It's too nice here.

_Yes._ Charles thinks happily, resting his head against Erik's chest.

A blanket settles over them. Charles opens his eyes and sees that Erik's used - something - metal to pull the blankets over them.

"Your cufflinks actually." Erik's eyes are closed, his voice is hoarse, and he's smiling, smugly this time.

_You're amazing_. _That you're a mutant too-_

"Shh, tomorrow." Erik's mind skips away from that line of thought, along which fear jumps like electricity. Charles blinks at him, uncertainly. "Go to sleep." Erik's fingers start to card through his hair, and warmth and comfort and safety is broadcast so loudly Charles is falling asleep before his knows it.

* * *

><p>It's just getting light when Erik wakes up, so wrapped up in security and comfort and safe that he doesn't have time to believe it could have been a dream. Charles hasn't moved, still pressed up against him, nuzzling against his chest. He's still asleep, and his dreams are peaceful, something about trees, and running water, and his sister.<p>

Erik works one arm around him and cradles Charles against him, feeling his chest rise and fall, and the reverberations of his heart beating. Around him, he can feel the building wake up, through the hum of metal and the sounds of morning.

There are in an official government building, among people who know what they are. Erik still hasn't started processing everything Charles has told him, that they're not monsters or freaks, but natural, the product of evolution, every bit a part of this world as birds or fish or humans themselves. The stunning relief of this is overshadowed at once by the realisation of danger. Like Schmitt, the people here know what they are. There is nothing to keep them for acting like Schmitt.

They have to leave. And now. Erik takes a deep breath and sits up. His belongings from the hotel are stacked neatly on the floor, so he'll have a change of clothes. Charles doesn't, but they are not far off a size, he can borrow something of Erik's. Then they'll have to get out -maybe bring Charles' sister along if they can- and away. Erik has more than enough safehouses scattered around, bought by Schmitt's blood-gold, they could hide out there, at least long enough for the search to die down. Maybe they could go to Switzerland again, or that place in Lyons-

Charles' fingers touch his temple gently. "What is it?"

He's half asleep, hair all over the place, eyes half lidded, blanket pooling around his waist. Erik can see a number of toothmarks and lovebites he doesn't remember making and feels an absurd surge of pride. He tucks a lock of hair behind Charles' ear. "We need to leave." Definitely the place in Lyons, it was beautiful, and isolated, it would be nice to stay there without an driving reason, to be able to enjoy it. The last time, he had been so focused on Schmitt he hadn't had time to appreciate-

Charles slides his legs over the side of the beds, shifting uncomfortably in a way that makes Erik smile despite himself. "There's no danger here."

"How can you be sure?" He runs his fingers through Charles' hair.

"Telepath." Charles closes his eyes and nuzzles in.

Erik pauses, but still, the risk. There is no certainty that can be worth this risk. None. He cannot even consider losing Charles.

"Not that I'm not flattered, and I don't appreciate it," Charles leans in until his head's resting against Erik's shoulder. "But we are safe. No one here has plans to hurt us. They may not-" his eyes open, a troubled expression, "They may not _like_ us, but they will not hurt us."

"I can't take that risk." Even more now, everything of Erik is screaming to get out. To take the one last precious thing in his life and go somewhere no one will ever find them.

"I love you too." Charles rubs his face, slowly waking up properly. "But I agreed to work with them, and it was because of them I found you. I can't repay them by leaving like that."

It's been a long time since Erik thought like this, as though he has a responsibility to a world which wants him dead. Still, reluctantly, these people have _not_ hurt him. They may still do so, but not yet.

"And anyway, if you want Shaw- Schmitt-" A pause, hesitant, a shiver through the bond like a pebble dropped in still water. "You'll need help. He has allies, and even together, I don't think we'd be a match for them." The day Erik lets Schmitt anywhere near Charles is the day- is the day - Erik has no idea what day it would be, but it would be impossible. "If you want to get at him, we have to work together."

If you want to get him. And so help him, but Erik would let it go. The idea terrifies him. To abandon the revenge he has been working on for so long and just... leave. But he would do it, just now, right now, if Charles would agree, he would do it. It's beyond terrifying and Erik doesn't even know how he'd manage, but he would. Somehow.

Charles must have seen his stricken expression and heard everything because he traces out Erik's features with his fingertips. "Thank you." He smiles. "I know how much it means to you-" A break, a soft half laugh, "I wish I had something like that to offer you." Swallow. "But it's not that simple. He'll be hunting for you, you know, and even if not, the people here believe he's working with the Russians. I don't think there's anywhere we could hide, in the end. He has to be stopped."

Of course, a pipe dream to believe anything less. And Charles is right, Schmitt- or Shaw if that was the name he was going by now- would be eager to find him again. Better, ironically, to stay here, defended on all sides, than to hide and so leave themselves vulnerable. He sighs, this will be difficult, but he has a duty now, responsibility. He's not alone.


	3. Stability, the Search for

**Stability, the search for**

_(Lewin is the unnamed CIA agent who takes in the mutants, he doesn't appear to have a canon name so he's Lewin. He looks like a Lewin)_

_(Notes on Mystique:_

_1- I consider that most of her insecurities about her body come from being afraid she will not find someone to love her as she is, at a time when most women still depended on finding a husband. In this world, this is not a problem._

_2- Unlike canon!Mystique, this Mystique has spent a lot of her time looking after an emotionally traumatised Charles. More than that, she's a Dominant in a world where the Male-Female dynamic has been replaced by the Dominant-Submissive one. She is perfectly capable and willing to tell him where to get off._

_3- I love Mystique, okay?)_

Erik showers in the connecting bathroom, leaving the door open. It's absurd considering he can feel the man in his mind, but Erik just wants to be able to see Charles. To makes sure that this is no illusion, that he is real. He rests his head against the tiled wall, wondering madly if Shaw's telepath had done something to his head because this cannot be real. He cannot be this lucky. It's just impossible.

Charles stirs sleepily in his mind, warm and reassuring. In the bedroom, he rolls over, now facing Erik, looking at him through half open eyes before falling asleep again. He doesn't stir when Erik comes out of the bathroom and gets dressed, only murmuring something happy and incoherent when Erik touches his shoulder.

Erik hesitates. He wants to leave, if only to scout of the building and make sure, make completely and utterly sure that no one here will hurt them, but he doesn't want to wake Charles. He doesn't want to do anything to disturb this moment, with the golden morning light slicing through the curtains and across the bed and his - his lover, his Submissive, _his_- lying warm and supine and- this isn't a moment he belongs in, and Erik is certain if he touches anything, it'll break.

But leaving Charles here alone turns his stomach.

In the end it's the bed that solves his dilemma, skimming off the top layer of metal and fashioning it into a bracelet around Charles' wrist. He can feel it, control it, use it to defend and protect. If he concentrates he can feel the warmth of Charles' body through it, the beat of his pulse.

Just in case, he locks the door when he leaves. If Charles wakes up he'll unlock it, but as it is nothing short of a hacksaw will open it. Leaving Charles makes his back knot with tension and his hands jump, he clenches them into fists, running his mind back into the bedroom and over the bracelet, touching the sleeping presence in his mind. _Safe_. It takes an immense force of will to step away from the door.

The corridor the door opens to is bare and empty, but there are sounds coming from a half-open door at the end. Another glance up and down the passage, and he follows the sounds, his mind sinks into the rooms as he passes, but everything seems peaceful and empty. Bed, chair, table, bathroom. No knives or guns. Quiet. Safe.

The door opens to a sunny kitchen, and Erik recognises Charles' sister Raven at the table. She looks up and sees him and gives him a brilliant smile. It's a little disconcerting, Erik's not used to anyone being this happy to see him. He hesitates.

"Are you going to come in?"

No reason not to, and if she's the only one here there's nothing to be afraid of. There's even coffee. He walks in- still cautious, if only from the strangeness of the situation- and sits down opposite the woman. She's blond, smiling and beautiful, but Erik thinks that even if Charles hadn't shown him her true face, he would have known. There's something about her that looks like a mask.

She must have seen something in his expression, because she glances at the door, then her skin ripples, and the blue scaled woman from Charles' mind is sitting there instead, her teeth shocking white against her skin. "You want some tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee please." He manages, and she gets up, all boneless grace, to makes some.

"Is Charles still in bed?" Hearing Charles' name from her is strange, and the feeling of possessiveness it engenders is so strong it shocks Erik.

He rubs the side of his face. Control. It's shot to pieces and everything feels exposed and vulnerable. It shouldn't feel this good. "Yes, he is."

Raven smiles, and hands him a steaming mug of coffee before sitting in front of him. "Is he- okay?" A little hesitant, which calms the possessive rush. Mine. Mine not yours mine. He sips the coffee to calm down.

"Yes." He's not sure what else to say. Their connection is warm and content and _there_, and Erik could cry for just how good it feels. "He's very happy." His breath catches on the last, and he stares at the mug.

"I knew he must be." A pause, when Erik looks up, she's still smiling, although a little sadly now. "I kept telling him to look for you," it comes out in a rush, "That he could have- I don't know, he's a telepath-"

"He couldn't have found me." In his mind, Charles stirs, as though disturbed in his dreams by even the mention of this time before.

"Yeah." Another pause, as they both sip their drinks, the coffee's very good. Nothing but the best for government employees. "We didn't even know your name." It's a question as well as a statement.

"Erik. Erik Lehnsherr. Charles told me about you."

Raven nods, "And you've got-" She touches the side of her head, "It's there?"

If it isn't, then Charles has put together a facsimile so perfect Erik's can't tell the difference. Different to how Charles' telepathy felt, this reaches from deep within, out. Like having a warm fire inside your mind, a safe place no one can go but you and he.

_And Shaw. Never forget. Nowhere is safe_.

Erik shakes the thought off and nods. Charles stirs again, waking, Erik projects comfort and safety to him and feels a wave of it returned. He smiles, genuinely. Raven grins.

"And you? Do you have a-" He's not sure, Charles hadn't shared that information.

Raven's smile turns rather more wistful. "Sub. No, not yet. It was never the right time, and there was Charles..." She trails off, Erik can feel the gap in the conversation like a pit. "Maybe now, or soon." A silence, more comfortable. Raven brightens. "So, you're going to be looking after my brother from now on, and I should tell you a few things-"

* * *

><p>They're gossiping about him, and Charles can't bring himself to care. He grins into his pillow, thankful that the two people he loves more than anything are getting along. He can feel Erik's amusement, momentarily distracted. A caress in his mind, light as a feather, and Charles sits up, rubbing at his eyes.<p>

Around his wrist is a plain black bracelet, iron, warmer than skin and trembling to the touch. _Wanted to keep you safe, know you were here and unhurt_. It's a little self conscious, with an undertone of _foolish can feel him well enough_ and the bracelet splits in half, falling from Charles' wrist.

He holds the two pieces, glad that Erik is convinced of no immediate threat, but - it had felt good, a gentle grip like Erik was holding his wrist. Reassurance that he belonged, he was wanted.

_You are. You are mine. Now come, we're waiting._

He doesn't have any fresh clothes, and his old ones are stiff with salt and dirt, and torn here and there. He hesitates, walking out naked is not an option with Raven there - unless Erik orders him to, and even then Charles would really, really rather not. She'd find it hilarious.

_All the more reason. _He can feel Erik's smile in his mind, all teeth. _Here_, Charles looks at Erik's opened bag of clothing. _Get dressed_.

He can hear Raven's voice from the kitchen when he approaches, "-and you really have to make sure he wears socks to bed, otherwise he'll get cold and wake up and be grouchy all morning-"

It's off that even this embarrassment doesn't spoil the good feeling. It's a completely unnecessary piece of information anyway, Erik's incredibly warm and Charles spent most of the night wrapped up against him.

Still, when he walks in, Charles can't shake the feeling that he must look ridiculous. The trousers fit, if a bit long in the leg, but the shirt's far too big and he can't find any shoes. Erik and Raven both look at him when he walks in, tousled from sleep and absurdly dressed and - he feels Raven's shocked amusement and realises - with an intricate network of bitemarks along his neck. Erik is smiling, and reaches up to touch his face. "Sit."

Sit where? There are only two chairs. Erik pushes gently down on Charles' shoulder. "Sit." More forcefully. Charles feels his knees buckle, and he obeys and sits down at Erik feet.

He can feel Raven trying not to giggle, but the embarrassment just melts under the force of how right this feels. He relaxes from his stiff posture and leans against Erik's leg, feeling those long fingers start burying themselves in his hair. One hand trails down the side of his face and Charles nuzzles the palm. This, everything, is nothing less than perfect. He's where he belongs at last.

"Have you still got that?" Erik's voice breaks through his thoughts. For a moment Charles is puzzled as to what he's talking about, then the fragments of the bracelet grow warm in his hand and drift up , pulling his arm with them. He lets go, and watches with no small fascination as the two pieces circle above Erik's hand.

"I liked it." Charles rests his head on Erik's leg.

The two pieces meld into one again, but Erik is looking at him. "Would you like it back?" His voice is so soft it's almost a whisper, husky and deep, with a note of something Charles hadn't heard there before, deep and managing to be both commanding and vulnerable. "Or would you prefer something - more fitting?" The fingers of his free hand rest on Charles' throat against his pulse, just below one of the more prominent bruises.

It's- there are words for this. Words every child knows and expects to speak or to hear at some point in their lives, but right now Charles can't remember any of them in the shock. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as it sinks in what is being offered, he closes his eyes and they slip free. Erik continues to gently stroke over his bare throat, vulnerable, naked, for all his life a badge for all to see that he was alone. And Erik was offering... and end to that. Something Charles had wanted his entire life, and for most of it believed it gone forever.

He tips his head back, letting Erik trace out the veins and arteries and tendons, over the ridges of his trachea to the hollow above his collarbones, struggling to find the right words for acceptance. They don't come. It's almost funny, he's spent so long trying not to think of them that he's finally forgotten them.

"Do you want this?" Erik's leaning down until he's almost whispering in Charles' ear. It makes him shiver and project _yesyesyesyesyesyforeveryes_. "Say it."

"Yes." It's more breathed than spoken. "Please yes. I will- I'm yours. Always. Forever. I'll love you and obey you and- be yours. Forever. I'll never leave or -go- or-" he swallows, "I'll always be here. I might not always be-" he tries to look down, but Erik doesn't let him, tipping his head up and rubbing circles in the soft skin under his jaw. "Ideal," he finishes lamely, "but I'll always try and be- deserving."

They're not the right words. But then again, looking at Erik and seeing the deep and reverent look in his eyes, in his mind, the love and affection and - everything - well, maybe they were the right words, and Charles closes his eyes as Erik brings the metal against his neck. He can feel it stretch and change where it touches his skin, spreading and following Erik's hand around to the back of his neck, where both ends meet and meld together until there's no join at all, just one smooth unbroken piece.

Erik takes his hands away and the weight settles, comforting, no edges, just round metal, still warm and vibrating from Erik's touch. Impossible to remove. Unless Erik decides otherwise, Charles will wear it until he dies. The mark of being owned and loved. Charles blinks, brings his hands up to touch the collar. Erik cups his face, leaning so far out of his chair he's almost joined Charles on the floor.

Charles is vaguely aware of Raven in the background, watching them, her thoughts are almost painfully sharp, joy and pride and a bit of embarrassment at having been present for such a private moment. Then she fades out as Erik pulls him in and their lips meet, light and almost chaste. _You are perfect_. Erik speaks in his mind for the first time, and even that 'voice' is rough with emotion. _Never doubt that_.

* * *

><p>Erik is rather amused when Moira McTaggert finally shows up, being an even later riser than Charles. She stares at them all, eating breakfast at the table. Or at least, Erik and Raven are. Charles is still sitting on the floor eating toast from Erik's hands, taking his time with each mouthful and licking his fingers clean when he's finished before sighing and leaning against Erik's thigh again, one arm wrapped around his leg. Erik turns his head with the collar, and offers a second piece.<p>

Apparently this is too much for McTaggert to deal with before coffee, and she turns her back on them all and goes to fix herself a cup. Amusement breaks through Charles' happily bubbling contentment and he swallows his mouthful before turning to the human agent determinedly spooning half the sugarbowl into her coffee mug. "Good morning Moira."

She gives him a look that clearly says he is speaking for himself here, and doesn't answer. Raven makes a suspiciously giggle-like sound, and finally even Erik can't keep from smiling. Maybe it's just that everything is so very good -_ is it always going to be like this? This good? _- or that he isn't alone now, that he's no lone monster but one of a new breed and there's three of them now. Three to watch each other backs, bound together by familial ties and love so that betrayal can never be an option.

McTaggert leans against the counter, sips her coffee, and sighs. "Mr Lewin is coming around to bring us to his facility, apparently he has this hot-shot young scientist he wants you all to meet." She looks at Erik helplessly. Erik smiles back unrepentantly. "You're not making my job any easier, you know?" She waves the mug at them, Erik frowns, but Charles soothes any irritation. _She's just not a morning person, leave her_. _More toast?_

"Spoilt." He strokes Charles' neck, thumb running approvingly along the dark metal of the collar.

"Between the two of us, how can you be surprised?" Raven mutters, stealing another piece of bread. She's human again, Erik notes, he frowns again.

_It would be a bit too much even for Moira, at this time of the morning._

_ We shouldn't have to hide who we are._ His powers are no aberration, they're part of who he is. Erik is not used to hiding who he is, and he refuses to start now.

Mr Lewin doesn't react much when he picks them up- after they've found Charles some clothes that fit- instead staring at Erik with the interest of an insect enthusiast finding a new species. It makes Erik's skin crawl, with the addition of scientific fascination and without Lewin's friendly demeanour, Shaw had looked like him in much the same way. The same look is turned on Raven, and Charles. Raven looks out of the window rather than meet his gaze, and Charles smiles back, ever friendly.

The man talks non-stop with McTaggert on the way to the facility, occasionally bellowing a question over his shoulder at them. Erik doesn't pay much attention, more interested in cataloguing the metal of the car and preparing enough rage and fear- fear predominates- to tear it to pieces if things go wrong.

Charles nuzzles his mind gently, _It's okay_, _he's not planning to hurt us_.

Maybe not him, but others - "It's his facility." Charles points out. _Just try, for one day._

Lewin stares at them, almost driving off the road. "Were you just-"

"Yes." Erik says flatly.

The man doesn't get the hint. "Wow, I mean, me and the old lady can get a few, you know, feelings through, but you were _talking_! Properly talking! Wow, I can't wait for Hank to meet you."

They pull up then, and Mr Lewin all but bounces out of the car, leaving them to follow. The facility is red stone and glass, and even from here Erik can hear the girders hum, welcoming. It's reassuring.

"Welcome to my facility." Lewin is all but rubbing his hands together in eagerness. "My mission has been to investigate the application of paranormal powers in military defence. This guy, Shaw, Schmitt, whatever you want to call him, he's working with the Russians. We might need your help to stop him."

"No." Erik shakes his head, stopping dead. "No, that you're not having."

"Erik-" Charles starts.

"No." It's a statement of fact, as though if Erik is convinced enough, he can dictate the universe. "He is not going anywhere near Shaw."

"Hey hey okay. I'm not giving any orders." Lewin holds both hands up, appeasing. "We'd just appreciate your help, that's all. This man Shaw is everyone's enemy here."

* * *

><p>"You do not question me." Erik runs a hand over Charles' shoulder. "Not on this."<p>

There's something in his tone that just makes Charles want to bow his head and give Erik this, but not now. It's hard to look him in the eye and shake his head. "We need them."

"Not on this." It's not the command but rather the raw edge to Erik's voice that makes Charles look away. "There is nothing worth risking you for."

Charles closes his eyes and exhales slowly, Erik's hand runs up his neck, over the collar and buries in his hair, turning his head to kiss him. "I protect you, but you have to obey me." He whispers against Charles' lips.

It's hard to argue, it's like swimming upstream, more tiring than it should be. Erik's lips are soft and warm, his tongue pushing past Charles' teeth, he tastes sweet, slick and hot. Charles closes his eyes, everything narrowing to the two of them, touch, taste, the sound of their roughened breathing, the wordless buzz of each other's minds.

"You have to obey me." Erik repeats.

"God, what is it with insecure Subs!" Raven's voice makes them both start. She storms around the corner, furious and shockingly blue. She sees the two of them, and Charles' horrified expression and glares. "If you start as well-" She warns, and Hank McCoy follows her around the corner, carrying a syringe and looking contrite.

"Look, I didn't mean like that-" He pauses, and notices Charles and Erik before flushing scarlet. Charles can't blame him, the first time they met, Charles, in his enthusiasm, revealed he was a mutant to everyone. Hank looks away and makes a visible attempt to gather his thoughts before pointedly ignoring the two of them and turning to Raven. "Look, what if you meet yours and they don't want anything to do with you?"

"Then, as a Dominant, I train them." Raven crosses her arms.

"Raven, anyone might see-" Charles starts.

"Be quiet." Erik taps the back of his head.

"Thank you." Raven nods.

"Then please, I'm not asking you to take it." Hank is still holding out the syringe. "But I'm not and if she doesn't want me like this-"

"Then she's a sorry excuse for a Dominant, isn't she?" Raven snaps.

"And if she is? What choice do I have? Or any of us?"

Raven shakes her head, scowling, then thrusts out her arm. "Then take the blood. But don't ask me to join in. I'm so sick of hiding! I'm not going to do it for the rest of my life."

Neither of them say anything, and Hank, takes the blood and leaves, shamefaced. Charles glances worriedly at the door, but every time tries to say anything, the collar tightens a little. _No_.

It seems like everything he says here is wrong. Maybe keeping his mouth shut is the best option. Raven looks at them, sighs, and ripples back to her human form. Charles relaxes a little. Erik's mind flickers disappointment. "If I looked like you, I wouldn't hide."

_Oh, please don't encourage her_.

"Be quiet."

Raven smiles, blue again. "Thanks, I guess. It's not that easy though."

"It ought to be."

Raven looks at Charles, "You can let him talk."

The collar loosens; Charles runs a finger along its rim. "I only want you safe, you know that."

"Yeah, but that's not your job, is it?"

He looks at Erik, hoping for an ally, but he just crosses his arms and _looks_ at Charles. "You said it yourself; it's not safe for us."

"And there's no reason to make it any harder than it already is." Erik states.

Charles looks away. Both Raven and Erik are looking at him. He can feel the disapproval like a weight in his mind, that he's disappointed Erik, it presses him down.

He shakes his head, "I'm sorry." To Raven.

"Hey," She smiles and steps towards him, then hesitating for moment. Erik nods, and she closes the gap and puts an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay, little brother."

Charles snorts; he's three years older than her. But since- Since, he's always been her younger brother. Clearly, finding Erik won't change that.

Erik puts an arm around Charles from the other side, and Charles leans in, tucking his head under Erik's chin. Raven smiles, and pats his shoulder. "I'll see you two later."

* * *

><p>The sun has set when they go into the rooms that's been set aside for them; plain white walls, large pine bed, a desk and chair, wardrobe. And it occurs to Erik that it's been twenty-four hours since the submarine, and he still hasn't woken up yet. The thought makes Charles laugh, and drags a chuckle from Erik's throat. So short a time and already it feels natural to hold Charles in his arms.<p>

Charles sends him a picture of a whole shape, then broken in two, and finally put back together so that no one can see the break ever existed.

They kiss, and perhaps one day it'll stop feeling like someone's poured champagne in Erik's head, but he doubts it. His fingers slip on Charles' buttons. _Less layers. Or use zips_.

Charles laughs again, and tugs at Erik's turtleneck until he breaks the embrace and pulls it off. _I'll keep that in mind_, he only bothers to undo two buttons of his shirt before pulling it over his head and tackling Erik, rolling both of them on the bed and fastening his mouth to the hollow under Erik's left collarbone.

_Mine?_ It's a little tentative. _Is that how this works?_

It works however the hell they want it to work. Erik is fairly certain that the classes Charles didn't go to wouldn't have covered situations like theirs. _Yours. Always._ He always had been really.

Charles hums before breaking off and rolling onto his back and starts undoing his trousers. Erik knocks his hands away and does it himself. Charles looks up at his, grinning to show all his teeth, eyes shining. Erik smiles back and decides to start just under Charles' ribcage, pressing his lips to the soft skin there before starting to work his way down. Charles squirms and Erik remembers he hasn't shaved today, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Charles' stomach. Charles laughs again. It's light and bright and liquid, and turns into a groan when Erik sooths the skin with his tongue.

"Aren't I supposed to be doing this?" Followed by another groan when Erik nips at his navel to shut him up.

_And who is dictating these supposed rules? I am not. Who else are you obeying?_

"No one, just you." Charles' pleasure is like warm water, filling them both up. Every part of him is tender, all soft edges and vulnerability. Erik catches a flash of uncertainty over the slightly rounded tummy, the lack of muscles in comparison to Erik's own body. Shy appreciation.

"If you looked like me," Erik pauses to whisper against his skin. "I would have failed you completely." He'd made his body to hunt, and now to protect. Just a tool.

"Beautiful." Charles gasps out as Erik starts pulling down his trousers, licking, kissing and nuzzling the exposed skin.

_Unnecessary, but thank you_. Charles' cock is pressed up against his stomach, and his licks the underside gently until Charles' fingers are digging into the sheet and he's gasping something incoherent. Erik's own cock is hard and aching, he should have taken his trousers off, but ignores it. This is more important. Another lick, sucking at the base, before going back and swallow him completely.

_If you want - anything- oh please- anything more that- you'd better stop- I really can't-_

Erik hums in response, remembering how good it had felt yesterday, closing his eyes against the torrent of sensation pouring into his mind. Charles' hands jerk up to touch him, and he pins them back down. _Don't move. This is for you_.

_And- if- ohpleasepleasepleaseplease- I need- what about you-_

_ Shh_ The thought's unnecessary, Charles' gone beyond broadcasting anything but blind want. He throws his head back and his back arches, his cock hits the back of Erik's throat and he gags, letting go and backing off. Charles keens at the loss.

"I said don't move." His throat hurts, he swallows.

Erik moves up the bed, takes hold of Charles' wrists and brings them to his neck. It's almost impossible to focus enough to move the metal- everything's so heat and lust and wonderful that it's impossible to find anything to be angry or fearful about, Erik has to bite his lip to gather enough focus to make the metal loop around Charles' wrists and pin them against the bedposts.

_Better._ He pushes Charles' hips back against the bed and carries on where he left off. It doesn't take long before Charles finally jerks forward and shouts something out loud and in their minds, along with a blast of such intense pleasure that Erik almost comes then and there, untouched.

He wipes his mouth from the unpleasantly bitter taste and collapses beside Charles. Pulling at his trousers to get them off, Charles still broadcasting the aftershocks so loudly it's only when Erik's hand brushes his iron-hard cock at he can be sure he hasn't come already.

"Let me." The next moment he's half sprawled over by a very happy, very warm and very sleepy Charles Xavier, one hand already cupping his erection. Erik closes his eyes, shutting out everything but the sensations and the waves of contentment pouring off Charles. It doesn't take long and he comes with a gasp in Charles' hand.

They don't move, Charles only shifting up a few inches to share a kiss before collapsing again, head on Erik's chest. Erik strokes his hair, looking up at him from suddenly very heavy eyelids. It's been a long day. A long, rough, absolutely wonderful day.

_We're staying then?_ Even Charles' thoughts sound half-asleep.

Erik hums, and lets his eyes drift closed. They would stay, and do it all over again tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Charles has the suspicion this is going to become a reoccurring theme. Erik is glaring at Mr Lewin, who is looking as though he would like to crawl under the desk. Charles has never seen Erik look like that, and it could probably strip paint.<p>

"You have an untested, untried installation, which you wish to use to find other mutants, even though they may not want to be found by you, and you want Charles to run it." It's said is a very steady voice but Charles can feel the anger vibrating just below the surface, anger than at a thought can be turned to flow through metal and attack.

Mr Lewin lifts both his hands, "It's completely safe, we've tested it."

"With humans, never with mutants, or a telepath."

"Erik, please." Charles looks up at him, a little pleading, "I want to do this."

Erik flicks this off like an annoying fly. "No." _Forbidden. No._

Charles rubs his face, the urge to give in again warring with his very real desire to do this, to find more of their kind, more mutants. "I am an adult, I can do this."

Erik completely ignores him, still staring at Lewin. "The answer is no." He turns to leave.

Charles gets up, the action is almost automatic. "I'll talk to him." He offers to Lewin, and follows Erik out.

He has to almost jog to keep up with Erik's long strides. "Erik, this is important. I need to do this-"

"For what?" Erik stops and turns, Charles almost runs into him. "What do you owe them that you need risk your life for?"

"It's not for them!" He would have thought Erik understood, he had seen Charles' mind and saw it every day. He's beginning to understand why Raven got so annoyed at him sometimes. Seeing is no understanding. "It's- Erik, this was my life. For the longest time. This. Studying mutation, genetics. It was all I had, really. I can't just- let it go."

Erik is silent, Charles can feel the anger drain from him, and he closes the gap with a hand on the joint between Charles' shoulder and neck. "And that is worth risking your life for? Now?"

"I wouldn't be risking my life. Hank will be there and it's his machine, if something went wrong-"

"-If." Erik is still looking at him in that strange way, head slightly cocked, thoughtful. maybe slightly sad. "Charles, what would you do if I died?"

The answer tied a knot in Charles' throat and he can't speak, can't even breath. It's as though a great pit has opened inside him and if he moves he'll fall in, Charles shakes it off and pushes into Erik's mind to escape it. Arms come up around him and he's held against a strong chest and a heartbeat that has already become so familiar.

"That. That is what I feel every day. When you so cheerfully risk your life in trusting those who should not be trusted, of for spurious reasons like this."

"Not spurious." Charles shakes his head. he tries to project the feeling of what this could mean, of how good it could be. "It's important, what we could do with this-"

"Will you ever stop and simply _do as I say_?" The last is spoken both out loud and in Charles' mind, it makes his knees buckle. "You are mine, I love you and you insist on running these risks and fighting me when I try and protect you."

"I'm sorry." He closes his eyes. "Bad habits, I guess." Too long alone.

"Yes." A flash of almost amusement. A sigh. "And if I were to let you do this, if it does mean so much to you," Charles looks up, surprised, smiles. "On conditions. Firstly, I will be there," Charles is already nodding, "And _here_." He touches Charles' temple. "And if there is any pain, McCoy will be rebuilding from scratch."

"I'll make sure to warn him." Charles smiles. _Thank you._

_Not yet._ "Secondly. If a new species is being discovered, should be by its own kind. We do this, none of their people. No suits."

"That shouldn't be a problem, Lewin is desperate to get that machine working, he'll agree."

Erik nods, "And finally, you stop questioning my orders. If we are in danger I have to know you will obey me and not argue that you know better. Even if you think you might. Question me later, when we're safe. But when we're here, in this place, with these people, you do as I say. You are mine. My Submissive. Stop fighting me." He touches two fingers to Charles' collar, they press in like it was ribbon.

Charles closes his eyes and lets Erik hold him, leaning against him, supported and safe. It will not be easy breaking twenty years of habit, of having to push forward no matter how unnatural it felt. To stop, relax, and trust, really finally trust, that he's with someone who knows him inside out, and who will keep him safe. "Yes. Thank you."

"Good." Erik kisses his hair.

* * *

><p>The installation, which McCoy calls Cerebro, is better finished than Erik had feared. By what he'd heard he'd expected it to still be an experimental mess, with wires everywhere and half-finished computers cobbled together from who-knows-what. Instead it's neat and clear, with up to date technology and the only loose wires on the headpiece. Erik eyes it untrustingly.<p>

_It will be fine._ Charles smiles at him as McCoy is explaining everything. McCoy is making a clear effort not to look at Raven, the fourth member of their little group. She'd made it clear when she'd heard that Charles was not doing this without her there. Erik is not sure what good her presence could be, but he's grateful to her anyway. If something does go wrong she can restrain McCoy while Erik destroys the machines.

* * *

><p>Charles is leaning on the hand rail, looking up at the headpiece, then down at Raven. "Do you want me to look for her?" He asks softly. "If this has the range Hank says, there's a good chance I could find her. I already know what she feels like from- um, from your mind."<p>

Raven shakes her head. "I knew you'd do that." She hesitates, frowning then closing her eyes, Charles can feel her mind reaching out, beyond the walls of Cerebro, to the other mind she cannot ever lose. Sometimes Charles thinks this is the truest kind of telepathy, of which his is just a pale reflection. She opens her eyes again, and shakes her head. "It's not- she doesn't want it."

Charles frowns, "Why not?" Hurt on Raven's behalf. Raven is smart and funny and sweet and caring, even if she does turn blue sometimes, and even then surely her Submissive wouldn't care.

She smiles at him, "Not that it's just- not the right time, I think. that's what it felt like. That she's here and happy and desperate to see me but just not- yet." She finishes lamely.

This new mutant could certain teach Erik a few things about questioning orders. He smiles back anyway. "But soon?"

"I think so, yeah." Raven shrugs. "Thanks though."

The headpiece, when he puts it on, isn't too bad, just resting around his head rather than on it. It's odd, he can hear the electricity crackle even with it turned off. He can also feel Erik's dismay at this, and how close he is to calling it all off.

_Don't spoil this for me_.

_I've been a lab rat, I know one when I see one._ There's that jagged edge of the past, and Charles turns his mind away from it. Erik leans on the handrail, and touches Charles' hand. _In. Now._

The best way Charles could describe it would be as if he picked up Erik, and put him inside him somehow, somewhere inside his ribcage, against his heart. And the bond multiplies it until they're one inside the other like some kind of mobius strip Russian doll. Charles opens his eyes and Erik is smiling at him, eyes like endlessly reflecting mirrors.

"Okay then," Hank checks the helmet, then looks at Erik, "Are you sure we can't shave his head?"

_No._

Erik just looks at him and Hank backs away quickly. Charles smiles, and takes a deep breath, calm. He's far more excited than scared. There's an apparently endless moment as Hank sets up the computers and Charles can hear the crackles in the wires getting louder.

_It's okay, _he says for Erik's benefit, _Everything is good, everything is good_-

_Please say something else. _That jagged edge again, the spike of how much Erik does not want to be doing this. This is insanity, almost any number of things could go wrong and he is not going to lose Charles to some sick experiment like-

The world opens up, and pours into Charles' head, and Erik is drowned out in noise. Everything is bright and dazzling and there's people everywhere. More people than Charles could have imagined. He'd known there were about 3 billion people on the planet, but numbers were one thing. The _noise_. It's more deafening than walking in New York with all his shields down, but more exhilarating too.

Somewhere in the middle distance he can feel Erik reeling, but the images keep coming so he must not have tried to stop it. He opens his eyes and it's like double imposed images, in one he's looking at Raven and Erik, both worried, Erik's hand to the side of his head, and in the other-

- There's people. Not simply humans but his people. They stand out as though everyone else were two dimensional, all but jumping out to be found. Children, almost all of them, younger than Raven or Hank. Somewhere he hears Hank say something, but it doesn't register and he's laughing, flying through one mind after the other until-

-until it stops. The world shrinks down and Charles staggers almost off the little platform until Erik steadies him. Charles throws his arms around Erik and hugs him. _Thank you_. His mental voice is several times louder than normal. He can't stop grinning, light-headed from the rush. Behind him he hears Hank tear something off, "Wow, you got a lot. Lewin's going to be happy. We'll just have to send a team to pick them up-"

"We'll do it." Erik interrupts. It's hard to read much behind his overwhelming relief that Charles is okay, but there's that iron hard indignant stubbornness that this is _them_, something humans should not be involved it. Erik is not going to drag anyone into this who isn't willing.

Hank isn't about to fight with Erik, Charles had warned him about the possibility of having the installation destroyed and he isn't about to push his luck. "Okay, um, is he okay?"

"He's fine." That's Raven. Charles purrs as Erik rubs his back. He's projecting happiness everywhere. "Just get him some tea and he'll calm down."

Charles rubs his head under Erik's chin. _This is my new favourite place. _He informs him.

_That's good. _Erik manhandles Charles down the stairs. _We'll get some tea and be off, yes?_

_ Yes_. Wonderful, all those people he found and now he's going to be able to really meet them.


	4. All Friends

**All Friends and Kingdom Come, part one**

**All Friends...**

Erik feels like Lot's wife, sometimes, or Orpheus from that Greek myth he found in Charles' head. Everything is fine as long as he doesn't look back.

Even the dreams aren't bad, not really, just old dreams he's gotten used to. Nothing new, nothing about losing Charles or seeing the CIA turn on them, not even anything from the camps and Shaw. A clean break, twenty years gone and unthought of as long as he doesn't look for them.

It would be easy to relax, and trust to the peace found between them. Never look back, or forward (because without a past, how can you imagine the future?) but just now. And now is so good. Such a time cannot last long and will not come again, and it's because of that Erik cannot enjoy it, and has to remember. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.

Charles tries not to. He feels his mind draw away from any thoughts on the past, as though trying to erase them and pretend they never happened. Erik lets him, let Charles be happy, god only knew, he'd had little enough of it, and it is up to Erik to protect him now. Unlike Erik, however, he's surrounded by memories, and can't break free that easily.

He didn't meet the eyes of their newest recruit, the beautiful woman from the club, with the hard, brittle edges of a Submissive surviving alone. She looked at them with proud eyes of those who have lived through the worst life can throw at them and Erik had inclined his head a little in respect.

He'd thought Charles' reaction when they entered the club had been due to some previously hidden prudishness and the discomfort of a rich boy in sordid surroundings. The way Charles sits down heavily on their hotel bed, pinches his nose and attempts to silence the ongoing roar of his thoughts suggests otherwise.

Erik pushes him back onto the bed and climbs on beside him, lining up perfectly chest to back. Charles presses back and sighs, mind calming. He gives a sudden laugh, one without humour.

"After so long of being on the receiving end of those looks, I never thought I'd be giving them." His shoulders shake, another aborted laugh.

Erik studies the nape of Charles' neck before gently kissing it, just above the collar. He's not sure of how to say any of it, so he just sends his feelings to Charles, broad question, inquiry, _you can tell me anything_.

"I know." Charles wriggles free and starts undressing. It's late, they've been driving all day. They're both tired.

It's when they're both under the covers, back in the same position, bare skin this time, that Charles touches the bond gently. "Would you like to see what it looked like to me?" Spoken softly, half to the pillows.

_Show me_. And they're both back in the strip club, looking through Charles' eyes at the dancers. The angles are different, and Erik is noticing things he hadn't before, like how so many held themselves in that very familiar posture characterising half the population, or how that one there still bore the marks of a collar, recently removed, the cold crackle of broken bonds. The club blurred and was overlaid by more memories, older ones, from New York and Oxford, passing past similar seedy places and avoiding them like the plague for the reminder they gave him.

Erik blinks, the room returning around them, he hooks an arm around Charles and pulls him in. "You didn't-"

"Oh no." Charles is smiling, in a way that makes Erik wish he'd stop. "No, I always had plenty of money, but it was a reminder, all the same. It's hard enough to find work with one-" He touches the collar. "Without one-" his shoulder moves in a shrug. Erik kisses it, warm skin. "-most Submissives haven't even been taught much else, and treated like-" _all backs turned on you, all glad they are not you, keep away, don't come near us, should be-_ the thought breaks off.

"Tell me." Erik whispers.

_Flash of emotions, feeling, a memory, sympathysadpity-_

"Tell me. Out loud." The thought trembles, fractures. Charles shudders, to look back is to fall back into the underworld. He can feel the edge of the memory, still sharp from Charles avoiding and blocking it. "Tell me."

"It was just once," Charles is speaking so softly he sounds half asleep, a contrast to the broken shards in his mind. "But really, he was just telling me what everyone else was thinking, and I'd been trying to pretend they weren't."

A pause, Erik runs his fingers over the back of Charles' hand, resting on the bed. He flexes it and Erik can feel the tendons move under the skin. Soft hands, never knowing hard physical work.

"It was for a research position. In Oxford. Before I got my doctorate. They let me in for that. I had the grades, and the money. They couldn't not. And this one professor who was interviewing me-" _an image; heavy, drooping, bulldog face. Sympathetic and pitying._ "He was professional enough, we got most of the way through the interview before he asked me what my Dominant thought of this."

Charles pauses, closes his eyes. Erik rubs his head against his back. _I'm here_.

"He knew the truth, of course. But I told him." The tension, the sharp edges, it hurt even to think of it. "You were dead. And he got up and stood next to me, and-"

Erik can see it in Charles mind even as he speaks. The sad-faced old man, mind reeking pity, one hand on Charles' shoulder. "My advice to you is to go home,"

_ get down that bottle of pills I know you're keeping somewhere,_

"and take them this evening."

_ Stop pretending you can do this_.

Charles stops, the images mixing into a mess from which Erik can catch a few glimpses. Charles collapsing in the car afterwards. Raven having to be restrained from throttling the professor when she finds out - Erik would have beaten her to it - The way Raven not so secretly kept a watch on him for the next few days.

_I wouldn't have- she knew it- but it didn't... help..._

_ No._

_ It's - not - I didn't - but what else can you do when that's all they expect-_

_ Shh_. Stroking Charles' shoulders, his back, his chest, his arms and face. Charles turns and wraps his arms around Erik, breathing into his chest. _I'm here, I've got you_. He doesn't know what else to say.

_Got you_. Charles agrees. _I just-_

_ Shh. Don't think._

_ Only-_

_ Be silent. You're mine, submit, sleep. I'm here_.

* * *

><p>When it gets bad, Charles simply follows the link back and buries himself in Erik's mind. It's a bit of a mess in there, but Erik is warm and welcoming and safe. Charles can close his eyes and just be still, letting the world move on around them. Erik's mind circles his, hunting down anything bad until Charles feels it's safe to go back, opening his eyes to Erik's, blue on blue, and everything is good again.<p>

He can feel Erik's glorious joy at have him, looking after him, knowing he's safe. Erik's been alone for so long, even more alone than Charles, who at least had Raven, and he quietly rejoices at having him, even while he fears that the world would try and take him away again.

It's calm, even if they are in the capital, having failed to recruit the last mutant on their list, a hairy runt of a man- self contained, with no bond at all- who had made his option of them quite clear. They'd spent the rest of the day in the capital until the presence of so many minds exhausted Charles, and they'd retired to the now deserted Lincoln Monument. By this point, the chess game had been abandoned in favour of looking over the water and watching the sunset.

It's done. It's a relief, as exhilarating as it had been. All those people. They'd only recruited those few who were adults, and even then they were all young, younger than Raven and Hank. Erik had refused to help the CIA recruit children, and shredded the list afterwards. Charles feels a little guilty all the same. All these people, these minds. Growing up alone, ignorant of what they were. Leaving them, after having heard their hopes and fears, feels like a betrayal of trust.

Erik must have heard him, because he leans down and kisses Charles' hair, nuzzling him. "You worry about the most absurd things." Exasperation and fondness in his voice, echoing through the bond.

Charles lies down, and turns his head, looking up at Erik upside down until Erik relents and kisses him. A moment. Charles is collecting them. Whatever happens next, even if Erik is somehow right and things end badly, he'll have these moments. Finding Erik in the water, that first night, the collar, an evening spent in the complex' rather luxurious bath, Raven teasing Erik until he finally laughs. This. Perfect.

"We are at the start of something incredible." Charles sits up, he can see himself through Erik's eyes, hair mussed and lips red from the kiss. He smiles. "We can help them." _It would be wrong not to, if we can_.

Erik shakes his head, his mind flickers and Charles tries to pull away as it flicks back to the past. He ignores the wordless _dontwanttogodontwanttolook _and forces Charles to see. Hiding in a basement in Dusseldorf, in a coal cellar in the ghetto. How much easier to be found if you had a telepath? Such power in the hands of those who had never proven themselves anything but murderous. It started like this, with identification, and ended-

Charles shakes his head, "Not this time." Erik looks at him, as if asking who he thought he was convincing, "We have common enemies, they need us, if only against Shaw." The name almost hurts to say.

"For now." Erik's hand is clenched on his shoulder almost enough to hurt, but his mind is elsewhere, on the young people they've recruited, who are even now waiting for them back at headquarters. _His people_. Young and vulnerable. A people with no stains on their souls or their past. Charles curls up against Erik, watching the sun set, the shadows of the chess pieces growing long against the stairs until the sun is gone completely, and they disappear.

* * *

><p>They only have time to return to headquarters before Moira calls them. They have news of Shaw.<p>

It's- Erik knew this was going to happen. But it's too soon. He'd thought- nothing lasts, he knows that, ought to have remembered it. But he'd hoped to have longer.

The panic is back, screaming at him to run, to take Charles and Raven and the rest and go somewhere, anywhere, where Shaw and the CIA and the Russians and Americans alike could never find them. Charles slides his hand under the table and takes his and Erik calms a little. But they're still not ready.

_We don't have a choice_. Charles' thoughts are hesitant, mindful or Erik's order to obey._ He's working with the Russians. No one can be safe from nuclear war_.

And he's right, Erik looks down at his hands. Calm. he can do this. He's trained to do this and this time he'll have help. The CIA are prepared this time and while Erik thinks the children will be more of a hindrance than a help, Raven at least looks like she can take care of herself, if only by surviving the wreck they've made of the sitting room. He nods to her- "Come on"- before turning to Charles.

"Erik," he starts, then falls silent when Erik tugs him forward with the collar.

"You are staying here." He can feel Charles trying to find some way to do something while still not disobeying the order.

"What?" Moira is staring at them. "No! We need Charles. We can't possibly take these kids, you can't seriously be suggesting-"

Erik closes the gap between them in two strides, he's a good head and a half taller than Moira and, Dominant or not, she backs off a step. "Can you seriously be suggesting I take him along. When Shaw will be there? In that kind of danger?"

Moira looks at him, unflinching. "We need him. Frankly, we need all of you. But we need him most of all. What good will it do if Shaw kills us because he wasn't there? What good will it do for him?"

"Excuse me," Charles interrupts, walking to stand next to Erik. Erik glares at him, _what did I tell you about obeying_? He flinches, backs off a step, but still presses on. "There's another way, I can stay here, but I can still be of help."

Erik pauses, Moira looks at him. "Go on."

Charles smiles, that small, impish smile Erik has come to dread and treasure in equal amounts, and nods towards Cerebro.

"The plane is leaving in an hour!" Moira calls after them.

"Then tell it to wait!" Erik answers, walking quickly towards the Cerebro installation. They leave Hank to prepare the machines, and Erik uses some of the floorplates to make a chair. Charles will be connected for some time.

"I'll be fine." Charles examines the headpieces. He's almost eager. Erik shakes his head.

"This will be the longest stretch you've done." Even with the supersonic jet, it'll take them some hours to get to Russia, and once they're there Charles will have to be with them the entire time.

Charles puts down the headpiece, smiles. "You take care." He touches Erik's chest, walks up until they're inches apart.

"I've worked towards this for years." The feelings of pain and rage, the dominating emotions of the past twenty years, are out of place here. But they'll serve, if only for one last time, they'll serve. "I will destroy him."

Charles looks down, shakes his head. "Please." _Don't become a murderer for his sake_.

Erik gives humourless laugh. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that." Flashes of memory he knows Charles will see, the many corpses he left in the wake of his search for Shaw.

"Please." It's a plea. Charles would kneel down if the chair wasn't in the way. _Please don't not, not now. I love you. I won't see you commit murder._

"Revenge." Erik answers.

Charles shakes his head, Erik can feel him trying to find the right words for what he wants to say. He's wanted to say this for a long time now. "Did you ever see the trial last year? The Eichmann trial?"

Erik frowns, "I read about it."

"I saw it. On the screen. I watched it because I thought- it was justice, after-"

"I know."

Charles' eyes are bright, and burningly determined, and he's smiling. "Do you know what I saw? A little man in a glass box. To stop snipers, you see." Charles lifts his hands, as though trying to capture the right words by hand. "He looked pathetic. Everyone remarked on it. Just cringing in a box. Alone. Surrounded by all the people he'd tried to kill, and who were getting revenge on him. They read out his crimes for everyone to hear. So that everyone would know what a monster he was, and so he knew he would go down in history as that monster. And that they'd hang him, and that was too good for him, he deserved much, much worse, but because everyone here was not a monster they were just going to hang him and be done with it."

Charles pauses, breathing quickly to catch his breath. "I know you asked me not to argue, but please. You're-" A harsh laugh, "You're such a good person, it kills me when you think like this." Erik numbly cradles Charles' cheek, he can feel a muscle there twitch. "Please. Don't think this is the only way you'll get your revenge. Capture him. Knock out his mutant guards and take him alive. Let him stand in that glass box. Let him hear his crimes aired to everyone. Tell them about what he did to you, to me, to your mother. That he murdered her in front of you and just about did the same to us. That he- tortured you, broke our bond."

Charles swallows, pauses, a deep breath. "And you won't be the only one. There'll be others he hurt, maybe just like you. And he'll have to hear it all, and see it broadcast to everyone. No one will believe him about mutants. They'll think he's mad. And then they'll hang him like Eichmann and it won't have been revenge, it will have been _justice_."

Charles' breath catches. Erik wants to say something, but nothing comes, he lifts Charles' head and presses their foreheads together.

_I can't stop you. But please. You don't think I wouldn't want to see him pay? After everything he's done? I lived through it with you. But don't make it this easy for him, or this destructive for you. He's not worth that. Let the CIA have him. Please._

There aren't any words even in Erik's mind. He rubs Charles' back and holds him, raw and shaking. It's not anger so much as outrage and bewilderment, that someone could have hurt them this badly, and why? They suffered for so long and so much, and what for? So a vicious, cruel madman could do- what?

Charles lets his breath out in a shudder, and looks up at Erik, tilting his face back for a kiss. He tastes of metal and ozone, the air inside Cerebro. "Please. Come back the same person you left."

Erik nods, so close their faces touch. "You will be there. We'll both be safe. I promise." _I will come back. I promise. I don't understand what you see in me. I'm not even sure it's there. But what there is is yours, I promise._

One final kiss, hard and burning to singe their lips and last to Russia and back, and Erik drags himself away.


	5. And Kingdom Come

**All Friends and Kingdom Come, Part Two  
><strong>

_A few notes about some of the characterisations in this, while I'm not very familiar with Comic!Azazel, Riptide or Shaw, I am quite familiar with Emma Frost. And Emma's reaction to Shaw declaring his nuclear war annihilation plan would have been - _

_ "That's nice dear. Oh silly me! I dropped your helmet over the side! Oops, I made you jump over the side too! It's the Arctic Ocean, oh dear!" *snickers* _

_ And then she waits until Shaw's nicely deep frozen before cutting him out and displaying him, ice and all, in her drawing room as a conversation piece. And setting up the Hellfire club with a _sensible_ plan for world domination._

_ I love Emma, but as this character is not who we see in the movies, I had to make some changes for her to fit in. Let's face it, no sane person would ever sign up to Shaw's plan. It's completely moronic, if nothing else, what are people going to eat once all the food's irradiated and the plants are all weird? Not to mention that while mutants might be resistant to radiation (and how many tests did Shaw do?), they probably aren't to nuclear blasts._

_And this suddenly turned out to have Darwin/Alex as well, who knew?  
><em>

**... and Kingdom Come**

It will take them several hours to reach Russia. Charles knows this. He should be resting, take a leisurely meal and build up his strength for what will be a long day.

Instead, he does none of this, having Hank pack him some sandwiches, a thermos of tea and some blankets so he can camp out in Cerebro instead. He settles in the chair- Erik manages to make metal comfortable, and with a few cushions and blankets it's positively decadent- and pulls on the helmet. He's not going to sleep here, not with both Erik and Raven gone, so he may as well go where he can sleep.

He can't feel Erik. The bond is still there, warm and strong, but he's out of telepathic range and being alone in his thoughts for the first time in more than a week makes Charles want to claw at his head until it opens and he can get Erik back.

"Ready?" Hank glances at him warily, he's entertaining a very vivid picture of what Erik would do to him if anything goes wrong. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." Charles nods, pulling the helmet down, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

This time, when the rush of sounds and images come, he moves through them, back inside his own mind and along the bond, bright and warm and still cracked here and there, although the damage is healing. He leaves Hank and the facility and even America behind, launching out into the darkness of the ocean where only the lone lights of sailors mark out the distances, and the plane already leaving shore.

_Charles?_

The plane is hardly comfortable, a tube with seats in, but Erik is trying to sleep anyway, with as much success as Charles was anticipating.

_Yes, I couldn't sleep either. I thought I would come and keep you company_. Charles hesitates, _is that okay_?

_Yes._ He can feel Erik inside his mind now, checking for any pain, or anything besides tiredness. _And we can sleep now?_

As if from an immense distance- which it is - Charles feels himself smile. He projects comfort and warmth, security, and Erik adds the odd but pleasant sensation of being surrounded by metal all around, humming and friendly and safe. Charles closes his eyes and anchors himself in Erik's mind. _Wake me when we arrive._

_Charles?_

It seems barely a snapshot of time, but already the jet is hissing down to land. _So soon?_

_ It's a very fast jet. Are you rested?_

It's confusing, waking up in two places at once, but Charles is putting himself back together. _I'll be fine_. In America, he's watching himself clumsily unscrewing the thermos, in Russia, Erik, Moira and Raven are getting out of the plane to meet their contacts and their truck. The light is grey and Moira's watch reads 8.03. One o'clock in the USA. It had taken only four hours to cross the Atlantic.

Maybe it was Cerebro, or sleeping inside Erik's mind, but Charles feels completely awake. The tea and sandwiches help and by the time the truck is on the move he's back with them, curled up and happy.

Erik smiles, leaning over to Raven, who's sitting next to him in the guise of a burly soldier. "Charles says hello."

The man's rugged face splits into Raven's broad grin. It's a disturbing sight.

There's a banging on the compartment from where Moira and the contact are driving. "I'm sorry, this wasn't on the map."

Erik looks through, it's a checkpoint. _Charles, can you get us through_?

Charles smiles, Erik must have felt it because he nods. "Keep driving."

The contact stares at him, "What? But-"

"Drive." Moira nudges him.

Charles reluctantly pulls away from Erik, and jumped through neural non-space to the minds of the checkpoint guards. They see nothing, he tells them. Just an empty road. Just a replay of the last couple of hours they've been standing in the cold dawn light. As the truck approaches, he pushes one of them to open the gate, and wipes their mind of the memory when it's done.

Then, once the truck is out of hearing, he jumps back into Erik's mind and sighs in relief, like coming back inside after standing in the cold.

* * *

><p>Erik doesn't know whether its due to the cold or the tension but by the time the helicopter arrives he's knotted up and so tense he can barely stay still. This is not how he wants to go into a fight, unfocused, half his mind back in America with Charles-<p>

_But half of me is here instead, so it evens out_. He can feel Charles' smile.

Maybe he's right. Erik had gone into the last confrontation in the right mindset and look what a disaster that had been. He can just about make out Shaw's telepath, dressed in sheer white, but no sign of Shaw himself. Even alone, the sight of her makes him feel ill, what sort of person would willingly work with Shaw? Particularly a telepath, who would know what sort of monster he was. Erik is almost afraid to look for Shaw, unsure of what seeing the man would do to him. For all of Charles' sweet words, Erik doesn't know if he has the self control to keep from murdering the man when he lays eyes on him.

_You do. You're good and strong, and so much better than that._ It's a flat statement of fact, and it makes Erik smile a little despite himself.

It fades when the helicopter leaves, leaving the telepath alone. "Where's Shaw?" Hot rage, he'd been prepared for this. Twenty years of being ready and once again-

"Charles?" Raven whispers, "Can you find out?"

An odd sensation, Erik realises Charles has just shaken his head. _No, if I read her mind she'll know we're here. Let me try something else._

Then there's that horrible empty feeling as Charles focuses Cerebro elsewhere, like someone's carved out the bottom of Erik's stomach and the rest of him is in danger of falling in. His hands twitch and it's an effort to stay still and not race over and tear into the guards and the general and the telepath and just- just-

_It's okay_. A shadow of _wellit'snotokaybutnevermind_, and _He's not coming_.

Erik clenches his fist so hard his knuckles crack. "He's not coming, apparently." He glances at Raven, inclining his head slightly. She nods just a little.

There's a conspicuous silence in his mind as Charles very deliberately does not share his thoughts of their plan. Erik send a short feeling of _well done_ pleasure back. Before getting up, Raven following.

"Stop." Moira whispers, "We're here for Shaw, mission aborted."

Raven hesitates, Erik shakes his head. "The hell it is." This is Shaw's telepath, the woman who stopped him last time. Take her out of the equation and their work is suddenly easier. Then Shaw wouldn't have anywhere to hide from Cerebro, they could track him all over the world. Besides, she willingly works for Shaw, is trusted by him enough to be allowed to liaise with his Russian allies. She's dangerous and vile, and Erik is not going to let her walk out of here.

"The CIA invading the home of a senior Soviet official? Are you crazy?"

_Charles_?

_I'm here,_ a little reluctantly, _I suppose it was impossible for this to end without a fight?_

_Quite._

"I'm not CIA, and neither's she." Raven grins and jumps up after him.

It's a hard sprint through the woods and towards the house. _Go, quickly. I'm distracting the guards but I can't do too much or I'll alert the telepath._

Raven is pacing him, shifting back into her blue form to concentrate on running. Apparently having Capitalists invading the home of a Soviet official is bizarre enough on its own not to matter if one of them is blue. Crossing the lawn is surreal, the guards stare straight ahead as though they aren't there. _Where?_ He sends to Charles.

_ Through the main doors, up the corridor and through the door at the end. There are two guards in there but I can't stop them without being noticed._ Pause. _Don't hurt anyone, please? I can only explain away so much damage._ Erik grins.

The two guards inside stare at them - or particularly Raven- with eyes like saucers. Erik grabs their guns and shreds them with an emotion that's more fierce joy than hate or fear. Together, they are invincible. They walked into a home under the highest security and no one could stop them. He smashes the butt of the rifle against one guard's chin, while Raven shifts into a huge form and charges the second, crushing him against the wall.

She stumbles back, one hand to her head, dazed from the impact. The guard just groans. Erik gives her a wild grin. "I'll show you how to fight one day." She grins back.

_You are both enjoying this far too much._ But even Charles is caught up in this, and his excitement is palpable.

* * *

><p>The thrill lasts until the door is opened on a bizarre sight. The general on the bed, doing something obscene to thin air, and the telepath sitting on the sofa in her underclothes.<p>

Charles cannot blame the general for his actions, he's being manipulated by the telepath- _and since his sub died in '42 it's a relief to find any connection, with anyone-_ Charles shakes his head. _Focus_. He can't slip up now, although he's getting tired from controlling all these minds. He quickly puts the general to sleep. As far as the man knows, he's having a nice nap dreaming about a lovely blonde woman, and Shaw never turned up at all.

The telepath gets up and ripples, shockingly like Raven. Only instead of turning blue, she's made of diamond, gleaming and whole, throwing rainbows around the room. Her presence, which had previously been the solid hum of telepathic walls, suddenly goes dead. Not dead, but reflective, only echoing the sounds of the room - the general's dreams, Raven's involuntary _wowIhavetoseeifIcandothat_ and Erik's __-

_Erik_.

"I don't know where your telepath is," the woman's voice is like silver bells, her smirk throws reflections of scarlet and blue. "But he won't be getting anything while I'm like this."

She tries to run, but suddenly Raven's eight feet tall and huge again, and crushes her against the table as she tries to jump it. A sudden sharp jag of pain and Raven cries out, shoving the woman away - she goes flying and hits the footboard of the bed. Raven switches back and hugs herself, shock and pain and bewilderment at the sight of the hundreds of small cuts across her body from the edges of diamond.

The woman smirks again, this time the scarlet on her body is not all refracted light.

_Are you-_

"I'm fine." Raven snaps. "Get her."

Erik has the woman tied up with the bedframe, and his mind is like a knifeblade. He pays Raven and Charles no attention, crouched in front of the telepath. "Where's Shaw?"

_Erik_- Charles doesn't know how to touch Erik's mind, every part of it is suddenly jagged and raw, to touch would be to hurt and be hurt.

The woman doesn't answer. Charles feels her mind lash out and blocks it quickly. It cracks and crumbles like a wave on rocks, but Charles flinches. It feels like paper cuts in his brain.

Another piece of the bed curls around her throat, and Charles can feel Erik tightening it, a mockery of a collar. Twist like winding thread, pull tight. Erik's focus narrowing down to that one point, and how he can feel the diamond start to crack under the strain, as the metal turns from brass to steel to something Erik doesn't have a name for, strong enough to break her in half.

_Erik, please_. It's not so much for the woman's sake - she hurt Raven - but for Erik's. There's some kind of sick metamorphosis going on his mind, turning the fierce, protective, loving man he knows into the edge of a blade. Nothing but focus, dredging up _hatehatehatehate_ with every twist.

_Erik!_

He doesn't hear, Raven gets up and walks over tentatively, not daring to touch Erik, staring in bemused horror. Her blood is leaving dark trails down clothes already ruined from shifting into too many shapes.

Then it ends, Erik releases the woman's neck and lets her go. She flies back into flesh and shockingly loud. Mind screaming senseless and soundless chaos. He's in her mind before Erik suggests it, if only to make her stop.

Everything there is broken, and for a moment Charles is terrified they did it. But no, it's old damage, having her neck nearly broken by Erik isn't even scratching the surface. Everything is ruins and burning and burnt and black and dead and twisted so much Charles can't imagine what it had once been.

He pulls out and the woman smiles, staring at Charles hiding behind Erik's mind. _I- I can't_. It's hard enough maintaining focus. He's been Cerebro for hours now and his control is coming apart at the edges.

"You have to." Erik's voice is hard. _We have not come all this way for nothing_. "Find his plans at least."

Looking at this woman - Emma Frost- is like looking at a bath full of razorblades and contemplating climbing in. Everything is shot to pieces and - dear god, who did this?

The plans are dark mirrors, filled with a sort of reversed joy that makes Charles dizzy to experience, even vicariously. There are ruins in these mirrors too, real ruins, images of a people and world laid bare by nuclear attack. Humans hunted down and massacred. Mutants empowered by radiation holding sway over a dead world. People bowing down to their new mutant rulers. He recognises Frost, and two others whose minds are almost in as bad a state as her own and- that has to be Shaw, being bowed to like a king-

Charles drags his mind away, the image of Shaw splintercracked with all the associated memories, control, torture, a perverse mockery of a bond, and Charles cries out, shaking his head over and over within Cerebro's helmet- _make it stop_-

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

* * *

><p>"Charles?" Erik's voice is tentative.<p>

_hurts_

"Please, are you alright?

He feels Charles trying to gather himself together. There are bits of his mind all over the room. _can't do this much longer_

"You won't have to." He turns his back on the telepath. To look at her is to invite new madness.

Charles' thoughts blur_ howcanIexplainthis_ a rush of disjointed images of ruin and disaster. A pause, then the thoughts come clipped and short, to get it done now and fast.

_Shaw's not working with the Russians. He wants to destroy everything. He's working towards nuclear war. He's- _words fail, an image suggesting a black hole, decay, everything dying_- he's insane. He thinks nuclear war will make us stronger-_

"Us?"

_Mutants. He's a mutant too - he wants- he's insane. I don't know what he is or- what he can do, but-_

"Shh." Erik closes his eyes. Charles' presence is a wavering thing, tentative with exhaustion and shock and-

_Don't be afraid of me_. He's almost begging.

_You almost killed her_.

_She works for Shaw_.

_Shaw got to her too, like he got to you only longer. He's had her for - a long time- he's- _again that wordless, helpless image of destruction.

"Erik?" Raven is holding the now-flesh telepath, "I knocked her out," she explains. "Is he ok?"

Erik doesn't answer, closing his eyes again. _I'm sorry, I - _he doesn't know what to say._ Just hold out a little longer, until we get out, then it'll be over._

_Okay_. He can almost taste Charles' exhaustion, and the distance he's trying to maintain. Part of Erik wants to scream _What did you expect? I tried to warn you. I am not a good man._ The rest just wants to curl up somewhere with shame and self-hatred for having frightened Charles and hurt him.

_Neither. Please. Just come home. No more pain and hurting. Just come home._

"Yes." He nods at Raven. "We're going."

They meet Moira waiting for them at the truck, she looks about to speak but Erik shakes his head. Plenty of time for that when they get to the plane. For now they just need to go.

_It's okay now_. Erik sends as they sit in the truck. _You can let go_.

_Need to get you through the checkpoint again._ Miserable and dogged.

Erik lifts a hand, trying to send something through the bond that Charles can feel, a caress. _You've done so well, we couldn't have done it without you. You can rest soon. I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>Charles doesn't move when Cerebro is turned off. Even with his eyes closed, the light sears his brain. Everything hurts, as though someone sandpapered every nerve under his skin. His muscles are screaming as though he'd run from Russia, instead of having been sat here since-<p>

"Time?" He croaks when Hank comes over to check on him.

"Four PM on Thursday." He lifts the headpiece off and Charles groans, the sounds around him are too loud. "You've been hooked up for about eighteen hours."

Charles opens his eyes and the world is a mass of blurry colour which still manages to rip into the back of his mind like needles. He closes them again quickly.

"Um, the tea's cold, but do you want some?"

"Please." The plastic cup is held to his lips and Charles swallows the cold, strong tea. His telepathy's off, everything's buzzing and unclear. This is worse than the time he spent a day in New York.

Another cup of tea and Charles feels ready to tackle the impossible task of standing. Like all impossible tasks, it's best to take it one step at a time. First he sits forward, hunching over head down until the world stop spinning, gets a firm purchase with his feet, and holds out one arm to Hank.

He keeps his eyes firmly shut until he's finally upright, the world sways and rocks and the floor is every direction except down. Hank helps him over to the stairs and pauses. "It might help if you open your eyes for this bit, Professor."

Professor? Oh yes, that silly nickname they'd given him. Deciding this was not the moment to debate names, Charles opens his eyes a crack. He swallows. "Get me down quickly."

Hank starts down the stairs. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm about to be sick."

Fortunately, by the time he got to that point, they were outside and Charles could vomit behind a bush in some privacy. Hank gets him back to the facility, and settled him the apparently rebuilt lounge with even more cushions than before and an icepack.

The world stops spinning eventually, and when the sun goes down Charles can open his eyes at last. Everything is managing to be both raw and numb at the same time. His telepathy is still erratic, offering only the occasional flash of thought. It's a relief, although it only reinforces the feeling of being alone in the huge space of his mind.

He curls up around the bond. There's no way to talk properly at this range, but Erik feels him and projects calm and comfort until Charles finally relaxes. By what he can make out, they're on their way back to the plane and should be back by morning. A sense of mock-caution connected to an image of their recruits. Charles smiles.

He must have fallen asleep, because he's slowly surfacing from a sleep so deep there wasn't space for dreams. The noise filtering in is hard to make out, a mixture of actual sound and telepathic input. He sits up on sofa and rubs his face, trying to make sense of it.

"- See? You woke him."

"Hey, the circus is in town-"

A hand on his shoulder and a cold draining flash of a broken bond, bleeding out psychic energy. Charles flinches away; the girl, Angel, is standing next to him, hand still outstretched where she'd been about to pull a blanket more closely around him. _Shockpainhurt_ and her face shutters before she turns away.

"You okay Professor?" Hank is standing by the window, the curtains closed.

Charles' telepathy wavers back on and he catches the mocking, cold laughter of the agents outside. He wrenches his mind away and everything wanders in and out like a badly-tuned radio.

"I'm fine." Nothing a night in bed - _with Erik _- wouldn't cure. "What was that about?" He waves a hand towards the window.

"Just some guys being stupid." The boy sitting in the sofa opposite shrugs. Sean Cassidy, Charles remembers, a mutant with an extraordinary voice. A Submissive, _"But hey, my Dom's half a world away so maybe after this is over I can go look for her, yeah?"_

"Guys being stupid I can handle, I've handled it my whole life." Angel is staring at him. If she had any other name she's never told them, and Charles hasn't dared look. It's hard to even look at her. Her lip curls. "But I'd rather a bunch of guys look at me with my clothes off than the way these ones stare at me." _or the way you do_. It's not spoken so loudly it hurts.

"What happened over there?" The oldest boy there, Alex, who locked himself up out of fear of what his powers would do to those close to him. Who has a little brother he never speaks of, and when Charles had asked where _his_ Dominant was, the reaction had almost been violent.

"Shaw wasn't there." Charles rubs his temples again, trying to get his telepathy to behave. "We caught his-" There isn't a word for what Emma had been to Sebastian Shaw, Charles hopes there never will be -"His telepath. Erik and Raven are coming back now." It's all Charles wants to say on the subject.

"Was there a fight?" Alex smirks, "Must have been pretty cool."

Cool was not the word. He really doesn't want to go into any more detail, but before he can think of anything to say, the last member of their little group breaks in.

"Leave him alone, that couldn't have been much fun." Charles smiles gratefully, Armando, or Darwin if he really wants, is the only Dominant in their little group, and it's good to have someone taking charge, with the others away and Charles finding it hard to keep his own head in order. In fact-

Charles blinks, looking from Alex to Darwin. "You never told me-" In fact, he hadn't seen them in the same room since last night, and that had been too distracting for him to notice - "Congratulations." He adds weakly.

Again, the wrong thing to say, Alex glares at him and stalks off back to the pinball machine. Darwin watches him go, radiating __ and follows Alex.

Charles closes his eyes, everything's out of joint and confusing without his powers.

* * *

><p>"So you'll teach me to fight?" Raven is smiling at him.<p>

"Not that you didn't acquit yourself very well back there." Erik nods. "Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

Raven's smile fades, and she glances away. "Those years you were gone? They were rough all round. For both of us."

Silence. If Erik is to find out more it'll be from Charles or not at all. Some griefs are private. He knows that better than anyone. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For looking after him when I couldn't."

Raven smirks, "It's wasn't just one way, you know. He did his fair share of looking after me, particularly at the beginning."

It isn't the same though, Charles kept Raven safe and happy, she kept him alive. A world of difference. A debt Erik can't ever repay. It's odd that this doesn't bother him anymore.

"Didn't stop him from being an idiot sometimes, though." She adds. "I wonder if it's just him, or are all telepaths so unbearable?"

"I wouldn't know." And despite everything, Shaw and the twenty years and the mess of today, Erik is feeling _smug_, because Charles is his and his alone, and he is without a doubt the luckiest person on earth. Raven just doesn't know what she's missing.

Raven is about to make some retort, when Erik's smile fades and everything goes cold as though he was back in the ocean again. A shock of fear through the bond. Something's wrong.

* * *

><p>It's after the third dull, distant thud that it hits Charles, the <em>ohnoohgodimgonnadie-<em> followed by a spike of pain and darkness.

"What was that?" Darwin's voice comes from a long way off.

Charles' mind hurts, and for a moment he's in the air, falling again-again-again-

-then it stops and he's back in the common room, hands clenched on the sofa like a lifeline.

"Something doesn't feel right." Darwin has a protective arm around Alex's waist, which is shoved away at once.

They crowd towards the window as Hank opens the curtains. There's a flash of something in the building opposite, a flicker on the face of the moon. Then a scream, out loud this time, and a body crashing to the courtyard outside. Charles stumbles back into the arm of the couch. It's Lewin. Even through his bulk and his suit he can see the smashed frame of his body. Dead in an instant.

The searchlights are on in the next instant, only to illuminate more people, falling from the sky. It's a situation that in any place other than reality would be funny. Out of some child's cartoon. But cartoons don't show the way bodies break when dropped from so high, or how people scream when they fall, or how - in a flash when his powers flicker - there's time for them to realise every detail of what's going to happen before they hit the ground.

They reel back, and this time Alex doesn't protest Darwin's arm around him, Charles bumping shoulders with Angel and not noticing, Sean stumbling over the coffee table.

"Do something!" Hank's staring at him.

Charles shakes his head. "I can't, I-" he puts his hands to his head, "I spent too long in Cerebro." _Erik, wherever you are please hurry._

"Damn it!" Darwin's eyes are so wide he can see the whites around them. "We can't just-"

The sounds of gunfire from across the compound makes them jump, another flash in the mind of frightened men, armed to the teeth, aiming them at a lone man, neatly dressed, wearing a strange helmet-

_Shaw_.

* * *

><p>"What is it?" Raven's voice is coming from a long distance off, drowned out by a storm of panic and terror pouring through the bond. Erik drags at his own hair, he can feel Charles screaming at him to <em>do something<em>, around him the girders groan and when he opens his eyes both Raven and Moira are staring at him in fear.

"Charles." He manages through teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. "Oh god. Charles."

"What?" Moira unbuckles herself from the seat and stumbles over to the pilot's cabin. "Put in a call to HQ, check what's happening."

"What's going on?" Raven demands.

_Do something_. The straps holding Erik in snap free and he collapses to the floor, still clutching his head, trying to break loose of the storm in his mind. _Charles, please-_

He has to calm him, or they'll both go mad.

He tries to press reassurance through the bond. Calm, don't panic. I am coming. Be safe. Save yourself if you have to. Hide and I will find you. I will be with you- _ oh god fool why did you leave him what did you think would happen?_

"We're not getting an answer!" The pilot shouts back. "All the lines are dead!"

"They're under attack." Moira speaks for all of them.

"Shaw." Erik grits out, closing his eyes. Calm. Calm. Control. Panic will not help. Panicking might tear the plane to pieces. Deep breaths. Control. "How long?"

"What? We've barely left Russia! Another four hours at least, and then another two to reach the facility."

Control. In the back of his mind Erik can feel Charles scrabbling at their bond, trying to find something- anything. He's tired and his powers aren't working and he's terrified. _No fear, be calm. Don't move. I'm coming._ Too late, but coming all the same. Erik sends his mind down into the jet's engines and _pushes_, driving the plane through the dragging air. He can hear the pilots shouting something distantly, but pays it no attention, focusing on the plane and on the bond. _I'm here. Whatever might happen. I'm here with you_.

* * *

><p>The worst part is that Charles knows what is happening. The tornado that destroys Cerebro is from one of Shaw's mutants, a man with no name since Shaw had Emma remove his tongue in front of the man's Dominant, the red teleporter who- god- who's dropping all these men to their deaths. And the third intruder, the one all these guns and rockets and who-knows-what are exploding around, is Shaw himself.<p>

In a moment when his telepathy returns Charles screams _Stop shooting!_ at the men, because it won't do any good, he's seen Shaw through Emma's eyes and they're only making him stronger. His words reverberate over nothing, the room is empty, no minds left there. They're all dead. They're all dead and he can't feel Shaw and that's more terrifying than anything.

He can feel Erik there, in the back of his mind, trying to project calm while being close to screaming himself. _Please. Please not again. Please._

They're all backed up against the wall, as far from the windows and doors as they can manage. Charles grabs Sean when the boy tries to run. "Stay still!" If they move, they'll be targets.

The teleporter is standing in the courtyard, among a pile of corpses, and smiling at them through the smashed glass.

No, not at them. Charles turns his head, carefully as though afraid the bones will snap, and sees the nameless man climbing in through the other window. Neatly dressed, smiling back.

Shots. "You want the mutants? They're right through that door! Just let us normal people go! We're no threat-" A final shot.

Somewhere in Charles' mind, somewhere beyond his ragged powers and Erik's desperate presence and his own terror, part of him is almost curious when the shadow appears behind the frosted glass window. He's about to come face to face with the man who did his best to destroy his and Erik's lives, who caused the twenty year long nightmare. Somewhere beyond the fear, Charles would like to see that face.

Shaw's very neatly dressed, like his two compatriots - followers and victims-, all in black, with that strange helmet. Charles can't feel him, even with his powers no longer working he can still feel everything in the low-frequency buzz of thoughts, but Shaw is nothing, a black void, a bullet hole in the world. He's empty and cold and dead, and Charles' composure deserts him and his backs up to the wall until his back is pressed up against it. Cold sweat prickling up his spine and the back of his neck. _Erik-_

"Where's the telepath?"

The teleporter, the red demon, inclines his head at Charles. Shaw looks at him. Everything feels suddenly very detached, as though Charles were standing outside his body feeling Erik screaming soundlessly through the bond, watching his own fear, and the way the others cluster around him protectively.

Shaw steps forwards, he's tall and thin, with dead cold reptilian eyes that rake up and down Charles once before resting on his collar a moment. He smiles. He can think, clearly, but Charles can't feel or hear it, everything he feels in that direction is just sucked into nothing, deadening everything around Shaw. His skin crawls.

"I wouldn't be trying anything." Shaw's voice is dry and pleasant, unchanged from the last time Charles heard it, in Erik's memories. He taps the side of his strange helmet. "I had this commissioned from the nice boys in Moscow, very particular specifications, I'll admit, but I can be very persuasive." Still smiling, still walking towards Charles. With hands that don't feel like his own, Charles tries to push the others behind him. No one else needs to be in the line of fire.

_Erik_. He's clawing at the bond, trying to reach through, a sudden flash of memory transported back twenty years to his bedroom, screaming as he felt Shaw torture Erik. He hadn't known what Shaw had done until Erik had shown him, but he'd felt it. Oh dear god had he felt it.

"Protective? How quaint." Shaw pauses in front of them, looks at them. "But I suppose you had to get used to it here, didn't you. Surrounded by all these people. All these _humans_." Charles can see them all reflected in those empty basilisk eyes, half a dozen children and half-grown adults cowering against the wall. And Charles, staring like a rabbit in headlights. _Erik, he's standing there in front of me, looking right at me. Erik please help. _

But Shaw is still smiling, still- Charles realises belatedly- trying to exude pleasantness, all body language and no thoughts, like watching a puppet mimicking a human. He looks away from Charles, and at the children clustered around him. "Where are my manners? Good evening to you all. I am Sebastian Shaw."

And Charles realises he doesn't know. He doesn't know who Charles is, or about Erik. Charles is just a telepath, a potential threat to be neutralised with appropriate defences. For all Shaw's done, for all those he's killed and ruined and tortured, he can't read minds. Something that comes to Charles as easily as breathing, and Shaw can't do it. Unless someone speaks it aloud, Shaw has no idea who he really is, he has no way of looking into Charles and seeing Erik on the other side. He might as well be blind.

Somehow this makes it even more frightening. Charles can feel his ribcage and spine dig into the wall as though trying to climb in and away. Charles has no idea what this man is about to do and it could be anything.

"I am not here to hurt you."

_Much too late. So much. And you killed everyone. _Charles swallows, running his tongue over bone dry lips. A thousand miles away, Erik is screaming and raging fit to tear the plane out of the sky. _Please, shh_. Telepathy or not, Charles can't believe Shaw isn't hearing them. He must be broadcasting loud enough to deafen.

Outside in the courtyard, one of the last soldiers are cut down by the teleporter. Shaw doesn't even turn to look. "My friends, there's a revolution coming, when mankind discovers who we are, what we can do." He looks at Charles again, "You know. Tell them." He's smiling again, like a very convincing human mask."Tell them what they were thinking," Shaw continues, "All these humans you shared a building with. What they thought of you all. Tell them what that man outside was thinking, when he handed you all over, just to save his filthy hide."

Charles swallows, is suddenly certain he's about to be sick. Shaw's so close Charles can see every line in his face, every shadow in his eyes, and he's not there at all, like talking to a manikin. "One man." Charles croaks. From Erik a roar of fury, dismay_ don't attract attention, don't talk, hide_. "One man out of an entire compound. You had to kill all of them to get to us. It doesn't matter what they thought. They died for us."

The words drift and are swallowed up by the darkness, sparks against the night, candles against the sea. Futile and doomed. Shaw is no longer smiling. Even if Charles were able to access his powers, he could do nothing. He's as weak as any human while Shaw wears that helmet, and he's seen enough from Erik and Emma's memories to know the man could hurt him very, very badly. "Is that what he told you to say? The one who gave you this?" Shaw flicks his fingers against the collar around Charles' neck. For a single heart-freezing moment, Charles is sure he's guessed, he's recognised Erik's powers in the metal, that he _knows_-

"I take it, it's not one of you?" Shaw turns to the others. None of them move. "Thought so." Shaw looks back at him, a pitying look. "To see one of our kind collared by human, how sad."

_Don't tell him please don't please_. He's not sure if any of them hear. It's impossible to sense if his powers are working or not, Shaw's bending everything out of shape, like a heavy weight against fabric, everything around him crumbling like sand. He continues, as though Charles hadn't spoken at all. "Now, each of us faces a choice. Be enslaved, or rise up to rule."

Seeing Charles about to risk speaking again, Shaw raises a hand. "It's clear for all to see what side you've chosen. I have no time to talk with self-proclaimed chattel."

Yes, Charles can see that now. It isn't about him at all. That's actually worse, if that could be possible. Before, he'd though Shaw would try and kill him, or take him or- he really doesn't want to imagine what could have happened- but it would be just him, and the others would be left alone. But that's not why Shaw came. Not at all.

"Choose freely but know that is you are not with us then by definition you are against us. So, you can stay, and fight for the people who hate and fear you;"

_Who died for you_. Charles wants to scream, he hopes they hear.

"Or you can join me, and live like kings." He looks at Angel, who meets his gaze. "And queens." Charles' throat knots up. She takes Shaw's hand.

_No._ He tries to shout, _Please don't you don't know what you're doing_. He should have explained. He should have told them what kind of monster Shaw was, he should have said-

He should have said something to the woman whose eyes he still can't bear to meet.

"Come on," her voice is breaking. "We don't belong here." She looks at Charles, one last time.

He tries. He meets her eyes but even now, through his fear and Shaw's draining non-presence and her own desperate hungry hope, he can feel the loss, the broken parts of her mind that crush against the healing parts of his until he wants to scream. He looks away. Angel nods, satisfied. "And that's nothing to be ashamed of."

_No, please, that's not what I meant. Don't go with him, please stay let me explain please understand-_ If she heard, she ignores him, turning her back on Darwin's outstretched hand and leaving with Shaw and the teleporter and the nameless man.

Charles snatches Darwin's sleeve just as he's about to go after them. He can't read him enough to know why but he's not going to lose anyone else. Alex pulls at him. "We've got to do something."

"He'd kill you." Charles tries to keep his voice steady. "He'd kill all of us, like he did everyone else here."

Darwin hesitates, still staring out at Angel. "Don't." Charles repeats. _She's not yours, and you have someone to care for now. Don't, please._

And maybe Darwin hears, because he stops, turns back to them, and briefly meets Alex' eyes before lowering his head.

_ Erik, he's going._ His thoughts sound broken even in his own mind. _He's going and he taking Angel and I can't stop him._

The flood of incoherent relief is blinding.


	6. A Moment

**A Moment**

Then there is nothing. The facility is covered with dead bodies, and when they stumble outside there is nowhere to looks that doesn't include a corpse. The night air is cold, the first bite of the coming winter.

Shaw is gone.

Somewhere beneath the guilt and staggering relief, Charles wonders when everything had changed. Maybe the last twenty years was just life storing up all his luck for when he'd really need it.

"Should we go?" Sean looks at him, gesturing to the road.

"Where do we go?" Hank throws up his hands. "I say we wait here until the others get back."

There is nothing what Charles wants more than that, but Erik and Raven are still hours away and waiting here among the corpses and the fear that Shaw will return is sickening. "I suggest we walk out to the main road and wait there." Far enough away from the facility to confuse Shaw if the man realises his telepath is missing and decides qui pro quo and comes back for Charles but still on the road so the others will see them when _they_ come back.

"And you?" Alex spins around to glare at Darwin. "What's our brave Dominant leader suggesting?"

"Enough." Darwin's look is enough to cow even Alex, although he still looks mutinous.

"We can't just _stand here_!" Sean looks close to panic. "There's _dead bodies _here!"

Charles pinches the bridge of his nose. Children. He brought _children_ into this fight. A fight against Shaw. Mother of god, what could have happened-

He can still feel Erik reaching frantically through the bond, the feeling like hands inside his mind. _He's gone_. The effort of sending makes his head spin, _he's gone, we're getting out_. He doesn't know how much of that Erik gets, but he gets a rush of pure blood-hot relief like warm water, washing away the terror of the last few minutes.

"Come on, we'll wait for them at the turn off." Darwin starts walking down the road.

No one speaks. All lost in their own thoughts. Charles' telepathy's been worn down to vague whispers he can't make head or tails of. It's too much, too much in too short a time and he's collapsing in on himself after forty eight hours with only a few hours sleep.

A trace touch on the bond, Erik checking again and again that he's unhurt and safe. It vibrates like taut rope and Charles closes his eyes, shutting out the world to concentrate on how good it feels. With his telepathy down he can't even send images, but Charles believes Erik is trying to tell him they've landed. Not long now. It feels so good he wants to cry.

He's so tired this feels like a dream, the world narrowing down to the single point of the bond, everything disappearing in the darkest moments of the night. If he stops walking he'll fall over.

It's getting light when they reach the turn off to the facility, with the main road stretching away into the distance. It's so early no one is on the roads.

They collapse under the pine trees, on the nap of needles. The others instinctively cluster around him and Darwin, even Alex doesn't sit away, only shrugging off the arm Darwin tries to put around him. Charles hugs himself, the dawn chill is biting.

"When we get to the others, you are all going straight home." Breaking the silence is like shattering ice.

"Says who?" Darwin looks at him, much as he had looked at Alex. It seems like all Dominants have some variant on that look, it makes arguing with them feel like an uphill struggle. "Shaw killed everyone. He took Angel. You know he's dangerous."

"You have no idea." The headache is starting up again. "Shaw's insane, and I can't let anything like this happen again."

"And then? I go where then?" Alex demands.

"That was my work," Hank has run his fingers through his hair so often it's standing on end. "Shaw wouldn't have to work hard to track me down."

"And whatever Shaw's planning, I don't think it's something we can hide from." Darwin adds.

Sean doesn't say anything, but the stubborn set to his jaw speaks volumes. They're right, objectively, Charles can see that, but these people, these children, are going up against _Shaw_. Shaw of all creatures. Charles wants to explain, to tell them what a monster he is, but the words don't come. There aren't even words for that sort of thing.

"You got us here to stop Shaw." Sean's arms are crossed. "We're staying."

If Charles' telepathy was working properly, he would be sorely tempted to break every rule he'd imposed on himself and force them to go home. For their own good, because he is not going to see anyone else broken like he and Erik were, like Emma was, like Angel will be. He's already got that failure on his conscience.

Never again.

"What he's planning is bad, isn't it?" Darwin's voice is very soft. "We've got to help you. If we don't, and he wins, what do we do then?"

Charles says nothing. There's nothing to say. They might be children, but they are legally adults, and Alex is right, where would they go? Mutants are rare enough as it is, adult mutants even more, Shaw would never stop trying to find them.

"We'll have to train." They can barely control their powers, and though Charles' control is usually excellent, he's never been in a fight before. "All of us."

Darwin nods, slowly and deliberately, Alex grins. "Sure."

"We can't stay here." Hank looks appalled at the very idea. "Even if they reopen the department, it's not safe."

Where? Charles doesn't know. They sit in silence, watching the rising sun is painting the autumn trees gold. It'll be winter soon. It occurs to Charles that, barring something unspeakably horrible, he'll be spending this winter with Erik. It's the first time he's considered anything in the future beyond the next day. It's such a small thought, just a winter, but Charles has never wanted anything so badly. Isn't that something worth fighting for? For an evening of belonging, by a fire watching snow fall. Charles closest his eyes. And opens them. He knows where they can go.

* * *

><p>"We're almost there."<p>

Moira must have told them this a hundred times in the journey from the airfield. There isn't an answer this time either. Erik knows they are. It's the last stretch before they turn down the private road to the facility. He's spent the journey like this, cataloguing every turn, dividing every mile into yards and meters, every hour into minutes and seconds. It's been the only way to keep calm and not push the car into breaking every speed limit. They're going as fast as they can.

Raven is stonily silent as well. The only words they exchanged was when Erik told her that Shaw had gone. He'd barely believed the words himself. Logically it made sense, there was no way for Shaw to know about Charles, or for that matter about Emma in order to take revenge. But every time Erik has had anything to do with Shaw it has always been for the worst. He can't believe they could have got out of this unscathed.

"Here's the turn- what are they doing here?"

Erik looks, and grabs hold of the car's axles so hard a tire blows out. Raven and Moira are thrown back into their seats but by that time Erik is already out, the car door slamming open with a bang.

He's got time to take in a blurred image of the five tired, frightened young people under the trees and he doesn't know who moves first but suddenly Charles is in his arms. He's safe and here and Erik can feel the warmth of his body and the trembling of the bones under his skin and his sharp breathing in the hollows between their two bodies. He smells of fear and cordite and dear god _Charles_.

Somewhere is the far distance he's aware of Raven looking at them, checking Charles is alright before turning away. Erik presses his lips to Charles' hair, and hears of soft choked noise, somewhere between a sob and laughter.

"I'm here." He whispers. "I'm here. You're safe. I'm here. I'm so sorry." He'd failed utterly. "I'll never leave you again." How often had he said that? And he'd done it anyway. "Wherever I go, you go too. I'll protect you. I'll never leave you."

_Thank you_. Even Charles' thoughts sound exhausted. _Please, I-_ His thoughts fracture, everything unclear, and Erik just clutches him tighter. There's a confused wave of fear and exhaustion and relief, there's tears, but Erik doesn't know if they're Charles' or his, there are flashes of images, so fast Erik can only catch a few of them- Cerebro, something of what Charles saw inside Emma Frost, the people of the facility dying, Shaw - oh god, Shaw – and Angel turning her back on them and leaving with him.

_Please, I don't – can't please _and Erik sees himself through Charles' eyes, himself as he had been in Russia, cold and distant and so sharp Charles didn't dare go near him. _Please, I can't take this._

"No." _No, I'm sorry, I'm here I will never do this again. I love you_. In truth, Erik had frightened himself. Seeing Frost had been like a switch had been thrown in his mind, suddenly he was back on Shaw's yatch, alone and everything numb and cold and sharpened to a razor's edge. _I will protect you_. The words sound weak even in his own mind.

_Not like that_.

Erik is suddenly aware of everyone looking at them. He feels Charles' iron grip on his clothes slowly relax, and he turns to look over at the others.

"Are you alright?" He asks Raven.

Raven smiles, as though she hadn't gone through two first aid boxes worth of plasters. "I should be asking you that." She glances at Erik, a quick _is he okay then?_

Erik nods; the looks to where Moira is standing with the others. She's pinching the bridge of her nose. "The facility's gone, and thanks to Erik here the car's done for as well. Anyone got any bright ideas?"

"Yes." Charles rubs his eyes, dredging up energy from somewhere. "I have a-" pause, a flash of embarrassment that surprises Erik – "A family home. It should be large enough for all of us, although no one's lived there for a while."

Raven looks at Charles, "Are you sure?"

Charles frowns. "Yes Raven, I'm sure."

"Last I remember you were swearing never to go back there and threw the keys overboard when the ship was halfway to England."

Erik runs a hand up Charles' arm to his neck, when he touches the collar it warms and trembles slightly against his skin. He has a few of Charles' memories of that place. A dark and gloomy mansion, all dark corners and cobwebs – his stepfather sacked all the servants after Charles' mother died – a depressing place which quickly became unbearable after – Erik breaks that train of thought. Not now.

Charles leans against him, smiling a little. "It's different now."

* * *

><p>They end up in a hotel for the night. It's a five hour drive to Westchester, and it'll have to be in the army truck, which is the only vehicle which can carry them all, even after they changed the car's ruined tire.<p>

Charles has to be woken when they arrive. He'd curled up against Erik, buried his face in his Dominant's coat, and fallen asleep almost immediately. He wakes to Erik's hand in his hair, and the warm metal smell he's already come to associate with being safe and loved. He smiles up at Erik, and is helped out of the car and into the room that's been booked for them.

Charles stumbles, still dizzy with sleep, and when Erik holds him up, Charles uses that moment to snatch a kiss. Erik's lips are dry against his, his hand comes up and pushes Charles closer, kissing back so hard it's just this edge of painful. _Mine_. It's almost desperate. Charles can feel his mind rushing through plans, trying to find one that would allow him to keep Charles safe, always and forever.

Charles almost wishes he'd let Erik take him and Raven away. Somewhere, anywhere else. Somewhere safe from Shaw and that cold, hard, alien part of Erik. Somewhere they could hide and live and sleep and love and watch the snows of winter come and leave to summer, over and over until they grow old and the world outside is just a forgotten memory.

Erik's fingers card through his hair again, nails scraping along his scalp. He's kissed again, more gently, Erik's tongue licking over sore lips. _Say it,_ _just say it and we will leave and never return. We'll take the others if they'll come, and Raven. I know places, we can hide_.

They both think it, just as they both know it's useless. They know Shaw's plans. Charles looks away and Erik touches his cheek, turning his head. "Show me."

There's a lot, and Charles doesn't even want to think about most of it. He closes his eyes and opens his mind, throwing all the doors wide and drawing Erik in, his breath shakes and he leans forward, resting his head on Erik's chest as his memories are gently touched and filed through. Charles tries to turn his mind away; he doesn't want to see any of it.

_Look. This is an order_.

And when he does look, at the fragmented pieces of thought he'd taken from Emma Frost's mind, Erik's there. He digs down deep into Charles' mind until it feels as though their whole minds form their bond, no part of them untouched.

_I will be with you. In this, I will be with you_. A wild desperation to make up for his previous mistakes. For what he did. _Don't fear me_.

_I can't lose you_. Yesterday, that would have been a statement. He couldn't. But today, after seeing how Erik could turn away from him so easily –

"Not easily." Erik standing in front of the fallen telepath, his eyes like chips of ocean ice. _I had to do this. To protect you._

_ Not like this_.

* * *

><p>Erik kisses Charles again, harder, hands coming up to hold the sides of his face as the memories move on. He can taste Charles' fear as he watches the facility be torn apart around them, and sees what Shaw is capable of.<p>

Erik doesn't want to see this. He knows what is coming, and he doesn't want to know what it will do to him. Shaw, anyone around Shaw, it is as though they have something that goes straight through him, and drags out everything he'd thought he'd left behind when he'd found Charles. He'd thought he was done with being a monster. He had a place, he had a people again. But one look from Shaw's broken telepath and he'd been alone again, everything cold and dead around him except for the rage, and the hatred.

He turns away, letting the memories flow past and over him and away, curling around Charles to protect him. _Remember it like this. If you think of it at all. Remember that I was with you_.

Slowly the flood slows and the world around them returns. "I'm sorry." He could say it a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough.

"So you might as well not say it at all." Charles gives him a quiet smile. "You didn't know. You thought you were keeping me safe." _I cannot forgive you because there is nothing to forgive. Just stay with me, be who I know you truly are and I could not ask for more._

"You will always come with me." Erik knots his fingers in Charles' hair and tilts his head up. "I will show you how to defend yourself, if I cannot." There are a thousand things that could happen, and some aren't even Erik's fault. He can give Charles that certainty, though it tears him inside. He would find a way to keep Charles safe forever, locked safe and close inside Erik's heart if he could. There are no safe places in this world, and the mistake Erik made was in believing they were any to begin with.

_I'd burn down the world to keep you safe._ He kisses Charles again.

_Please don't_.

_Shhh_. _Say nothing. Do nothing. You are mine. Let me take care of you._

He walks Charles to the bathroom, and starts to undress him. And, even after all the time spent together, Charles still blushes when Erik unbuttons his shirt – metal buttons from now on, he decides –and eases it over his shoulders. He does the same to his trousers, and pushes them down, underwear and all, over sharp hipbones. Charles kicks off his shoes and steps out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. He leans against Erik, arms around him; quite naked to Erik's fully dressed.

"The shower." Erik touches the wall where the pipes run and the water turns on by itself, already the right temperature.

Charles doesn't argue, going in to stand under the hot spray. Erik makes quick work of his own clothes and step in as well. It's a mark of how groggy Charles is, and how uncertain his telepathy is, that he doesn't realise Erik is there until they're pressed up chest to back. He holds Charles still, not letting him turn around, and runs two fingers down the side of his face. He will never tire of this, memorising him by touch. The texture of his skin, the contours of his face, round and full and happy. _You will be happy. Everything I can do, I will do to make you happy_.

He rubs the pad of his thumb over Charles' lower lip, pressing in against his teeth until he opens his mouth and sucks gently. And that, with everything that's happened and such a long two days, is still enough to get Erik hard and wanting at once. He doesn't have to look at Charles to know he's the same, and when he removes his hand Charles turns his head and smiles at him, eyes dilated. _Please. Yes please._ Erik gently bites down on Charles' shoulder as he slides his hand down and over Charles throat, feeling it clench and bob as he swallows. Around over the edge of the collar and across his chest to pinch at a nipple.

Charles groans, rather loudly and Erik presses a finger to his lips, which Charles licks and nips at before sucking on. He presses back against Erik, arse grinding against Erik's cock. It's a blatant provocation, but Erik doesn't want it to be over this quickly. He sucks hard as his free hand continues to wander, edging down over the curve of his belly to the edge of a hip. He holds it there for moment, feeling the strength of in under the skin, as though someone had tied bone into a bow.

_Please, I want this._ Everything in the last few days washed away with water and burnt away with lust, if only for a few moments.

Erik pulls his fingers free of Charles' mouth, releasing the wet skin in his mouth with a final suck before running his hand down his back, over his arse and pressing in gently as his other hand reaches for Charles' cock.

Charles' skin is wet and hot and his head is thrown back into the spray from the shower. He gives another groan, even louder, and there's banging from next door. Charles snatches out a laugh before that too ends in another cry.

"R-Raven would like us to keep it down." He coughs, gasps, and any other sound is cut off when the collar tightens.

"Be quiet then." It's the best moment. There is nothing Erik wouldn't do for this. To have Charles writhing against him, simultaneously trying to thrust into Erik's hand around his cock, and the fingers slowly driving inside him. Feeling his mind coming apart at the edges, the tremors under his skin, the dragged breaths he can just about gasp out around the collar. Tightening it also gives Erik some free metal to play with. It's hard to concentrate anything but pure lust right now, but he manages to dredge up enough control to loosen a few strands of metal and slide them up Charles' throat, over his chin and into his gasping mouth.

Any arousal Erik lost in dredging up enough fear to use his powers comes back with interest the next moment, watching Charles' eyes go wide as the strands work their way into his mouth and down his throat. Erik releases Charles' cock and presses his fingers against his neck, feeling the hardness in the place where jaw meets throat, the muscles flex as Charles tries to gag against it. It pulses at his command; sometimes stretching against the walls of his throat, sometimes shrinking down to allows Charles to breathe.

_You are mine. Remember this._ His hand returns to Charles' cock. _Whenever you might think you are alone, no matter what, remember. This is you, and you are mine. Everything about you belongs to me and I will never, never let you go. No matter what. You will never be alone. You are in my hands, and I will never hurt you._

Charles is far gone beyond rational thought, but his response is a wave of blind pleasure and joy and lust and love with no sense to it. And a strong sense that Erik should stop this and just bend him over and fuck him already.

"No." Erik tastes water as he pauses to suck another love bite just above Charles' collar, at the place between, where the metal strands are gagging him. _Remember this_. "This is for you." His fingers twist inside Charles, his thumb rubs over the exposed head of his cock. Everything is white hot lust and joy and _good_.

Two more stokes another twist inside him, and Charles finds his release in a quick strangled gasp and grunt and everything goes white in reflected pleasure. Charles collapses against the wall of the shower and Erik catches his arm to ease him down until he's sitting, water drumming on his lightly freckled shoulders. Erik reaches out, fingers uncurling in front of Charles' mouth. It opens and Erik can see the muscles in Charles' throat flex as the strands slowly unwind and are drawn back up and out, flowing in thick black threads over Charles' lips and Erik's hand and back down to blend with the now-loose collar, fusing together to a flawless whole again. Charles draws in a ragged gasp, and brings a hand to his throat.

* * *

><p>It hurts a little to swallow, and Charles' throat feels raw. He smiles anyway, his head is still spinning and his legs are refusing to do anything more complicated than kneeling. He leans forward and rests his head against Erik's thigh, licking the bare skin and the water running down it. He can feel the outline of every muscle, the smooth skin with its light dusting of hair.<p>

Erik reaches down and rests a hand on Charles' head, pulling his head up with the collar. "Was that good?" His voice is husky and he's still achingly hard, Charles can feel it through the bond. He smiles.

"You taste better." Charles raises himself a little higher until his mouth is almost brushing against the head of Erik's cock.

_So willing to have me inside you again?_

_ You are inside me, always._ Charles closes his eyes and opens his mouth. Erik tastes of salt and metal and the water still streaming over them both.

_Perhaps- _the thought fractures, Charles can feel Erik struggle to put it back together. _Perhaps I will use your collar again and-_ words fail and Charles gets an image of him kneeling on the floor, sucking Erik's cock as the same metal strands fuck him and wind around his legs and work him towards orgasm again.

Charles hums, and runs his tongue along the underneath. When the head hits the back of his mouth he struggles not to gag, instead trying to swallow around it.

This time it's Erik who growls something far too loud and Raven bangs on the dividing wall again. She's tired and needs to sleep and she _does not_ want to hear this thank you. Charles tries to laugh, coughs; Erik grabs his hair and drags him in so hard Charles has to struggle to breathe through his nose. He swallows again, sucks, and Erik comes hard, biting his hand to keep from making any more noise.

They end up on the floor of the shower, the drumming water slowly going cold, sitting chest to back, Erik holds him very close, and Charles lets his head drop back against his shoulder. Erik's hands wander over him again, not erotic this time, but reassuring, making sure, one last time, that nothing happened, that despite the odds they are both well and whole and unhurt and together again.

It's so very good.


	7. Rage, Fear, Serenity

**Rage, Fear, Serenity**

Erik wakes up, flat on his back breathing hard as though he'd run miles. He can still hear Shaw's voice in his mind. The room is dark and alien and there's a moment of panic when Erik doesn't know where he is or what he's doing here, until Charles rolls over and throws an arm around his waist, curling around him, still asleep.

He lets his breath out in a long sigh, closing his eyes and burying his fingers in Charles' hair. The world around them returns slowly, bit by bit as the sun rises outside, painting the room in shades of green through the drawn curtains. A surprisingly small room, considering the size of Charles' family home. Painted pale blue and filled with clutter that still didn't quite hide the low bookshelves and small bed stacked up against the wall.

Charles hadn't mentioned it, and Erik hadn't asked, simply clearing out the worst of the mess and moving in a bed large enough for both of them from a neighbouring room. Then lying down, eyes closed, holding Charles and listening to his memories of this room. Home for the few good years when he was young and his father still alive. So much of the house has bad associations, but this is the place he has been happiest in. Before his father died and Charles gained a self contained stepfather because his mother couldn't bear to be alone or to look at him.

Erik had kissed Charles, held him and they'd rolled over and made love tenderly in that old, dusty bed. Erik's back still stings where Charles had dug in his nails, and in his sleep, Charles is dreaming of him.

This can't last. Erik can feel it. It's like a tide, like magnets, something coming and dragging them both apart, sudden and inevitable. Erik can feel it inside his skin, under his bones. It's so clearly there. It's a warning, a clear signal that this can't last, he isn't made for happiness like this, it'll break, or he will, and everything will be as it was. Cold. Numb. Alone.

_No_. Erik screams out inside, _No, I will not let you take him. He's mine. Take everything else, but I will never leave him._ Even if he has to carry Charles off like _Der Erlkonig_, they will go together. Erik doesn't have many ultimatums, but this is one of them. _Never. Nevernevernever._ Against him, Charles trembles, asleep but caught up with Erik's thoughts even in his dreams.

He doesn't know what he's speaking to, whether Shaw or the world or himself. He's never been this afraid, because he knows what's waiting for them now, what being alone feels like. _Never, never, I won't, I can't. Never._ Charles is warm in his arms; he murmurs something, still asleep, lips brushing Erik's shoulder.

How can he protect anyone when he's this afraid? Fear isn't enough, it doesn't have enough control. He needs the hate and focus to fight. Surely, just once more, to be rid of Shaw now and forever. Surely that would be excusable, acceptable, to be rid of this threat...

... But Erik's a fool if he thinks it will be just one threat. There are so few of them, and they are surrounded. Once Shaw is out of the way, it'll only be a matter of time. It'll be war, or worse than war, and they'll be caught in the middle. Again. Too terrified to move, too afraid of staying still. Move and they'll see you, or everything will break, stay and be cornered and killed.

"Shh." Charles blinks up at him, hazy eyed, sad smiling. _Such dark thoughts, my love_.

Erik feels him in his mind like warm water, smoothing out the knots of fears until Erik can close his eyes and relax.

_Nothing will happen. We're safe_.

For now, yes. But Moira is staying with them, and there's nothing stopping her from-

_She wouldn't_.

_You trust so easily_.

_And you fear so much_. _Sleep_.

* * *

><p>"There are other ways of using your powers." Charles murmurs, half to himself.<p>

Erik looks at him. They're sitting outside, in the last glory days of autumn. He doesn't answer, but Charles can see his thoughts too clearly. The last time he'd tried to use his powers without anger or hate his mother had been shot.

Charles gazes out over the grounds. The sun is shining hazily through a washed-out blue sky and the satellite dish in the distance gleams like gold.

"It's the only way I have." Erik says finally. "It's the only way that's worked."

It can't, not any more. Charles shifts over and places his hands on each side of Erik's face. _May I?_

Erik closes his eyes, and Charles goes in. A thousand feather light touches inside his mind, as though his brain is blinking. It makes him smile, although it fades when Charles finds what he's looking for. It's tucked away, behind and inside until Erik nearly forgot it was there. That cold, hard self. The edge of control. Charles' grasp slips and Erik gasps, flooded with the emptiness lurking beside it.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry. <em>Hands in his hair. Hands in his mind. _He did this to you. Shaw. I know, I saw what he did to Emma Frost. It's like this. Worse with her._

"To be strong." Erik can hear his voice in his own ears, and in Charles' mind, like a double echo.

It's almost a sob; his thoughts vibrate with the force of it. _He was lying. You are so much more than this._ Charles pulls an image from his own mind and shows it. It's Erik in Russia, not with Emma, but just before. Standing over the downed guards in the hallway, wild joy in his face and power crackling around him like lightning. Exhilaration and triumph, no hate or fear or pain.

Erik opens his eyes, Charles is kneeling, so close their faces are almost touching; their eyes reflect each other endlessly like twin mirrors.

Erik reaches out a hand and cups Charles' face, fingers brushing over the joint below his ear, the soft underside where jaw meets neck, the weak juncture of skull and backbone. Charles closes his eyes and smiles, leaning into the touch. The bond thrums with complete trust. _You are a good man. I will never stop saying it because it will never stop being true. I wish you could see yourself as I see you._

"Even so," Erik shakes his head, "I need to be there, I need the situation." _The anger._

"That's not enough." Of course Charles heard that. "Even without what it's doing to you, it's nearly gotten you killed." His voice is steady, but Erik can feel the break in his thoughts. His hands tremble.

* * *

><p>Charles doesn't want to do this. It feels wrong, although Erik doesn't seem to mind. Guiding the others at using their powers - showing Sean how to fly, having Alex control his powers, even teaching Darwin how to force his adaptation without stimulus – that's one thing, but this is Erik. His Dominant, who he is supposed to obey. Everything he is tells him to stop, to give in and stop fighting and trust Erik to look after them both. Isn't this how it's supposed to work?<p>

In an ideal world yes, which this isn't. In an ideal world they wouldn't have been torn apart for twenty years, Charles wouldn't have been forced to live alone until it because second nature; and Erik wouldn't have been set on this path of self-destruction. Twenty years cannot be breached with one step. Or even three weeks of steps.

So he takes another breath, steels himself for swimming against the tide yet again, and speaks. "I've always believed true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity."

And Erik, Erik who's so brave and noble and kind, who hasn't said anything about Charles lecturing him like a Submissive child, hasn't a clue what he's talking about. He looks through his own mind, and only sees the darkness. Using his powers has always been so profoundly negative he can't imagine it any other way. Charles braces his hands on each side of Erik's head again, goes in and _pulls_.

_Look_.

There's the most recent memories first, of them training-

_Charles on the floor yet again after their latest sparring match-_

_ Erik smiling broadly when Charles finally manages to knock the gun out of his hands-_

and laughing-

_Standing on top of the dish as Sean flies for the first time-_

_ Lunchtime in the small kitchen, Raven's latest food disaster-_

just being-

_ A moment's stillness in lovemaking, arching against each other, Erik looking down at him, hands cupping his face, thumbs dragging at the skin over his cheekbones – ich leibe dich –_

_ Discovering the old chessboard in the study, Charles looking at Erik shyly – do you play?-_

and deeper, the last few weeks together, that first night, the moment in the ocean which Erik still clutches at like a drowning man with desperation born of disbelief -_how can I be so lucky?-_

Then it feels like launching himself across the ocean in Cerebro again, so much darkness, but here and there, pinpoints of light. Charles grasps the largest and pulls it to the forefront of Erik's mind. _This. Remember this_.

It had been lost, coated with layers of _forget_ like a pearl to protect it from the outside world, and Erik for the memories of how good things had once been. Hidden by friends in Dusseldorf, who had found them a menorah and extra food for Chanukah. Together in the warmth of an extra ration of fuel, Jews and Gentiles, hands in the night, candles against the dark.

Charles's finger knot in Erik's coat, he can taste his own tears, and Erik's.

_How did you find that? I thought I'd forgotten it_.

_Of your memories of that time, it was the brightest. Erik-_ Their lips meet, messy and salty. They pull apart, and Charles gives him a slightly shaky smile. _That was beautiful, my friend._

Erik looks away and Charles can feel him tentatively gathering the memories, the proud, fierce joy, the peace. He's done it so often with hatred and rage that it feels like sacrilege to do it with these memories. And if it doesn't work- that last time he couldn't get his powers to work-

"It's safe here." _That's why we train_.

Erik smiles, eyes still turned inward. Then he laughs, a bright, pure noise that makes Charles dizzy with joy. "What would you like me to do then?" _A great deed to honour you, my own. _And image of Erik as a knight out to slay monsters.

Charles laughs as well. "We're rather short of those around here. But you could be a modern Don Quixote, I suppose."

Erik doesn't understand the reference, but he sees Charles looking at the satellite dish and smiles again.

* * *

><p>The dish is so huge Erik can feel it from here. He'd enjoyed going up it to see Sean fly, the metal frame all but howling in the empty air. It trills when he reaches for it, even from so many miles away.<p>

It's not like before, using hate and fear was like using a sword, sharp, precise, _there_ not _here_. This is different. This is like being caught in a hurricane and somehow shoving it in the right direction. Everything Charles had shown him, everything _so very good_. The moment they were first pulled from the sea, a joy so huge and all-encompassing Erik couldn't do anything but stay still and wait for it to run its course before he could even start to function. Everything. Twenty years of lost joy at once.

Like riding a thunderstorm, trying to control a flooded river. Hot and deep and wrenching, like reaching out with lungs and heart and arteries to _catch_ and _hold_ and _turn_-

The dish groans with the strain, not all of it is metal, but the gears, the joints, the skeleton. They remember, they hear. It creaks and howls in a voice only Erik can hear, slowly turning to face them. It strains against its stone skin, trying to reach closer. He can feel the girders start to bend-

_I think that's enough_. Charles' voice is pure delight. _I don't know what I'd do with a satellite dish_.

_Mount it on your wall as a trophy?_ Exhilaration is making him giddy.

Charles laughs and Erik lets go to look at him. His eyes are shining and he's smiling so hard he can't stop. Erik might be a failure in protecting Charles, but he makes him happy. It's something, at least.

"I'd need a very large wall."

Erik nods, unable to keep from grinning. "You'll need one; I intend to mount a submarine there as well."

He gives up any pretence at dignity, and they both burst out laughing.

* * *

><p>It happens just after a training session with Raven and Darwin. Charles and Erik take turns with training, Charles pushing at the limits of their powers, Erik testing them in a fight.<p>

"The trick," Charles continues to Darwin as they all head into the green drawing room – dubbed the TV room by everyone else – "Is to convince your body that there's going to be a threat. Remember what it felt like to be in that kind of danger and replay it."

"So I get this-" Darwin waves a hand, "This whole bunch of danger feelings, and whenever I need the right shift, I play that."

"Yes." Charles smiles. "I'll help you at first, if you like. But you should be able to do it yourself soon enough, with a bit more training-"

"Looks like that isn't going to happen." Moira sticks her head out of the door. "The President's making his address."

It's the same heavy knot in his throat as when Moira had told them they were going after Shaw in Russia. That last week has been so good. He'd thought- he'd hoped- they would have had longer. It was foolish, he'd known this was temporary, but still.

Like Erik, he knows too well how bad things can get, enough not to want to move when things are good.

"That's where we'll find Shaw." Erik's pale but controlled. And only Charles can read the shaken, _not ready, need more time_ he's had to completely change his powers, he's only had a few days. He's not ready to do this. They need more time, and that's the one thing they won't get.

"How'd do know?" Alex has been a lot calmer over the past few days, since Hank finished his suit.

All the same, Charles thinks it best to answer before Darwin does. Alex is still difficult towards his Dominant. "Two superpowers facing off and he wants to start world war three. He won't leave anything to chance."

Erik nods, putting a protective – _reassuring - _hand on Charles' arm. "I suggest you all get a good night's sleep."

* * *

><p>It was Charles who suggests the chess game before bed. Erik manages a smile. There's always been something very soothing about the game, and Charles knows it. For all his excuses about lack of training, Charles is very good at looking after him. He even fetches some brandy.<p>

"No losing to spare my dignity." Erik starts setting out the pieces. Charles gives him a look that says that Submissive he might be, but he does have his pride.

The game starts. It's good, a cool, clear focus like staring into a calm pool. Charles plays carefully, but with a sting in the tail. Erik prefers deceptively simple frontal assaults, backing them up with rooks and bishops when Charles takes the bait. It's peaceful, for a while, but soon the tide turns and Erik realises the game is all but lost, and his mind moves back to move unpleasant topics.

He's not ready, neither is Charles, or any of them. They're half-trained at best, Erik might have the most experience but he's using his powers in a completely new way. Sean is getting more confident, Alex more control, but Hank is still hopelessly reluctant to use his powers and Erik's attempts to break him out of his self-loathing hadn't worked at all. Raven was improving, yesterday he and Charles had her shift her shape's musculature to lift heavier and heavier weights, and copy Darwin's protective armour for when she needed it. She'd do well, but what they were expecting from Moira eluded Erik. She was an agent, yes, but her speciality had been infiltration and reconnaissance. She had precious little combat training and – she was human.

That was the heart of it. Erik picked up his newly lost knight and turned it over in his fingers. Why do this? Why throw their lives away for these people? Better to let Shaw have his little war, hide away where it couldn't affect them, and take Shaw down when they were ready. On their terms, not his.

"Cuba, Russia, America, it makes no difference." Charles is staring at him, absently moving his pawn in a half-thought move that puts his queen in danger. "Shaw's declared war on mankind, on all of us, he has to be stopped."

"He has to be killed." They both know it's true. Charles' idea had been a good one, and right, but now- no country in the world could put Shaw on trial, and probably none had the means to execute him. Erik takes Charles' queen. "But it's gone beyond that. This can't be done as a covert mission. Tomorrow, mankind will know that mutants exist." And what happens then, Erik isn't sure. Nothing good. He's seen enough of humanity to know that. They'll have to run, or stand and fight. "Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us, and that fear will turn to hatred." They didn't have Erik's powers to turn that hate to harm, but they had other means.

"Not if we stop a war. Not if we can prevent Shaw, not if we risk our lives doing so."

It's almost painful. Erik wants to pick Charles up and keep him here, safe, far away from anyone or anything that might do him harm. He wants him never to know how badly someone can be hurt, how much pain you can take, what the world will do to dreamers like him.

Charles looks away. "We can be the better men."

All seven of us. Against three billion of them. "We already are." Pure, clean, untainted by past horrors and atrocities. Erik will not see his people destroyed again. "We're the next stage of human evolution, you said it yourself-"

Charles blinks, cold refusal _no_ through the bond. "Like Shaw?"

Erik feels his face twitch. "He is not-"

"He's a mutant." Charles sighs. "We can be as bad as they are, and as good. I want to show them just how good."

"Like Moira?" Erik snaps. He loves Charles, but what he's doing now is like offering your beating heart to a starving wolf. "Do you think they won't battle their own extinction?"

A flicker through the bond, something of Charles' thesis. "That's not how it has to go-"

"But that's how it's always gone. You think they won't turn on us?" So many. Erik remembers what it was like in the basement in Dusseldorf, having to be utterly quiet during the day, listening to the tromp of boots outside, terrified when any came into the house in case it was the Gestapo, come to discover them. And one day, it was. Like that again. So many, even Erik wouldn't be able to stop them all. They'd be hunted down and killed. Again.

"And then what?" Charles spreads his hands, the game forgotten. Erik can feel what it's costing him to fight this, to stand up for everything he believes in the face of Erik's words. Because he can't just lie down and submit; and for that, Erik loves him more than anything. "We fight again? We declare war on everyone, like Shaw? Nothing but war for the rest of our lives, however long that might be, no rest, no peace?"

Not in this world. "Peace was never an option." _But better that than genocide_

* * *

><p>Charles makes the excuse to take the brandy glasses back to the kitchen, it doesn't fool Erik, and he sees him reach out for him, a quick, half-seen motion, quickly quashed. Charles wants nothing more than to go to him and curl up in his arms, forget the world outside.<p>

But, as Erik pointed out, the world won't forget them.

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts he doesn't realise he's not alone in the kitchen until the voice calls out, "Charles?"

It's Raven. She's sitting at the table, blue and in her dressing gown. She staring down at the wood of the table-top, and her voice is oddly tentative for his usually brash sister. She's radiating carefully chosen blank, as he'd taught her to keep telepaths out.

Charles puts the glasses in the sink and goes back to the table, sitting next to her. "Are you okay?"

Raven brushes her red hair out of her face, her face crumples and the blank vanishes into a wave of unhappiness. Charles stares, she'd been so happy earlier, at training. She'd managed to knock Erik off his feet, and that was a first. "It's going to be okay," he wishes he believed it himself, "We'll take care of Shaw and it'll be fine."

Raven give a rough laugh. "For a telepath, you're pretty blind Charles." Before Charles has time to take offence, she continues. "It's Hank."

Hank? He knew Alex was taking out his frustrations on him, but he hadn't thought Hank the kind of person to do the same, and on Raven of all people. It's been a long time since he's felt this kind of indignant outrage on the part of his Dominant sister, but it's fresh and clear now. "What did he do? If he-"

She waves him off, "It's not that, whatever you were going to say." A sigh. "He's finished it, that serum he was talking about back in the facility. To make us normal."

She looks at him, and Charles decides to keep quiet. She might call him blind, but he would really have to be both head and eye blind not to see how happy she's been here, not having to hide, and when Erik compliments her true form. "You didn't take it."

"You're not going to say I should have?" She challenges, hard and brittle. "You always said how I should always be hiding, in case anyone saw. I always thought it was for my safety, but you just didn't like to look at me, you though-"

"Please." Charles can't take this, not twice in one night. Too much pressure, they're starting to fray. "No, it was always for you. You're my sister. I didn't want anything to happen to you." He puts his hand on Raven's shoulder, under the fluffy dressing gown; he can feel the ridges and scales of her natural form. "Look, I-" He doesn't know. It's all a bit too much, Erik's harsh words, the fear, the hate. The feeling of the world as he knew it, a world that had briefly shown itself to be so very good, slipping away. "God, Raven it's your choice. No one can make it for you. I'd stand by you anyway, you know that."

Raven nods, "He said I'd never be beautiful." It's said very softly, and by the look on her face she didn't mean to say it out loud.

And, whatever Charles might have said before, right now he wants to go to Hank's room and beat him within an inch of his newly-normal life. There's only one thing to say, he should have said it a long time ago. "You are beautiful. And- what does it matter what I think? Or Hank? She'll find you beautiful."

Raven smiles a little. "You think?"

"She'd have to be blind not to." Charles smiles back, glad things are getting back under control, at least a little. "We'll stop Shaw, and when this has blown over we'll find her. Together, both of us. Okay?"

"Deal." Raven sighs and gets up, Charles follows suit. "I'll walk you back to your room; Erik might be upset at you walking the corridors alone."

It's a tease, but tonight she might well be right. Charles doesn't dignify it with an answer. Maybe this talk did him some good as well; he's feeling a bit more capable of seeing Erik again.

They can't think about this now. Charles decides. Maybe the humans will attack them, maybe not, it's no use getting wound up-

_That would put us at risk; leave us without a plan because you want to believe your fantasy_. They're close enough for Erik to send, it's raw and hurting and unhappy. _I will not see us go into battle so unarmed._

Charles sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, Raven doesn't notice, still talking. "And remind me to thank Erik tomorrow." He glances at her; Raven gives him an innocent look. "For training you so well."

She laughs at Charles' glare and leaves him in front of his door.


	8. All Fall Down

**All Fall Down**

Charles wakes to Erik's hands on his wrists, his lips on Charles' own. Charles keeps his eyes closed but presses up into the kiss, open mouthed, arching up. The sheets slip free and the cold morning air is sharp against his bare skin.

"Erik-" the words buzz between their parted lips.

"Shh," Erik's breath tastes of warmth and sleep. "Let me."

Pinned to the bed, there isn't much of an option. Charles lets himself relax, only opening his eyes a moment to take in the light in the room – still dark, plenty of time – before closing them again. He drops his head back to the pillow, baring his throat to Erik's teeth. Some gestures of submission are universal.

Erik licks along the edge of Charles' collar, along the tendons and ridges of his windpipe. He bites gently, here and there. Sucks until blood comes. More marks to add to the ring of bites and bruises already there. Charles is going to have a collar of bruises to match Erik's iron one.

_Yes_. _Mine_. Erik's mind has the stiff stillness of when he's trying hard not to think about something. _Just- mine. Let me have you, just once more_.

Charles opens his eyes to Erik's face, only inches away. "I'm not going anywhere." He flexes his hands and traces fingertips over the back of Erik's hands where they grip his.

Erik kisses his forehead, a soft brush. The tight grip on his emotions crack and Charles can feel the fear held just underneath. His hands tighten on Charles' wrists.

"Shh." Another kiss, this time on his lips. "Not that. Just, this, now, please."

Charles arches up again, kissing back, spreading his legs in invitation. _Then this, please. I love you. I'm yours. Take me._

He can feel Erik's smile against his lips, a moment's chill when the covers are pulled off him, quickly replaced with heat when Erik lowers himself on top of him. Erik lets go of his wrists and Charles flexes them, reaching up and running his nails lightly down Erik's bare back.

"Legs up." Erik's eyes are bright; the bond is hard hot lust. He shifts over to pick up the tub of lubricant and Charles grins, hooking his arms around his legs and pulling them up.

"Good boy." Erik purrs against his ear, coating his fingers before running one down over Charles lower lip. It tastes slick and sweet, feels cool and slippery when Erik reaches over between his legs and presses his fingers in.

Charles groans, throws his head back. With his eyes closed he can look through Erik's and see himself, doubled over on his back, flushed scarlet and panting and wanton. Eyes bright and gleaming.

"You are beautiful." Erik whispers, moving his fingers deeper until Charles is arching up blindly as fireworks go off behind his eyes. "Stay still." Erik rests his spare hand on Charles' thigh, holding him down, even as he moves his fingers again.

Two, three fingers, and then Erik pulls out of him, Charles smiles, head thrown back among the pillows. Erik's fingers trace out damp patterns along his thighs, easing Charles' legs around his waist, pressing kisses against his bare stomach.

Charles cries out when Erik pushes into him, easing them both down until he's on top of Charles, skin burning.

One day, Charles thinks incoherently, there will be a word for this, how they fit together like this, this uncertain grey area that is not quite Erik or Charles but is both of them. They gasp air together before their mouths meet again, slick, all tongues and teeth, gasping and moaning and breathing their names together.

Just this. Being here together. Erik's hands on his wrists again, keeping him pinned down and held apart. When Erik kisses him again, Charles opens his eyes. Erik's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen, scarlet with kisses.

_Like this._

_Freeze the world, end time now. Let this be forever._

Charles closes his eyes and cries out again, lost in the slow, sweet unknotting of orgasm.

* * *

><p>This is the first time anything like this has happened, Erik is quite sure of that. No one could ever have been so foolish as to think bringing their Submissive in the middle of a warzone would keep them safer.<p>

Charles smiles, "You know, one of the men who put up the flag on Iwo Jima was a Submissive, so someone got there before you there too."

Erik snorts, and runs his fingers over the Kevlar. Hank's suits are tough and resilient; for all that they look ridiculous. When Erik helps Charles with his, his fingers smooth over the places where metal has been knotted into the fabric on his specifications, he pulls with his hands, with his powers, and drags Charles into his arms.

This is the worst mistake Erik can ever make, he knows this, but he can't order Charles to stay behind because that will be even worse. Because Shaw might guess, or have been told by Angel who didn't know what she was saying, and a thousand miles is nothing to a teleporter. Or maybe it would be the human forces, ready to neutralise this new threat, who'd been told by Moira -just as ignorant as Angel- where they were staying-

Charles kisses him. _I'm coming with you_.

- it's the only way to be sure. The only way he can _know _Charles will be safe, be protected. He has to be there himself.

"I'm insulted." Charles' voice is a little rough, he licks his lips. "You're the one who trained me."

"One week." He can feel Charles' heart beating against the metal of the suit, pulse under the collar. He wishes he could pull Charles inside him, to become just one person, free from the ever-present fear.

"There's a school of philosophy about that." Charles murmurs. "Plato, I think."

_Shut up._ They can do this. They have to. They'll do this and whatever the outcome they'll survive and be together. Even if they have to run and leave Shaw to his insane plan. One way or another, they'll be back here come evening. Twelve hours, maybe thirteen. Looked at like that, it almost seems possible.

_Shhh_, another kiss. Raven bangs on the door. "We're meeting Hank at the airbase now, hurry up."

* * *

><p>Charles gently nudges the guards into letting them into the airfield, security is tight with the whole country on edge, and while Moira might have clearance, any they might have was lost when Shaw destroyed the facility.<p>

Erik doesn't seem to want to let Charles go out of arm's reach. A hand tracing his shoulder, cupping his throat, resting on his back. He's so tense his bones hurt. _This is madness_ of the eight of them, three are Submissives.

Charles leans in closer, whatever Erik might think, if they fail they will all die, no matter where they might be. As utterly immoral as dragging them into this might seem, Sean and Hank are risking their live to be sure there is a future; that they will live to meet those they belong to. It's a worthy cause, although he still feels slightly sick. This is Shaw, after all.

Standing under the plane's wing, with Erik so close beside him, Charles can see it through his eyes, every coil of wire and girder, the way the wings tilt so slightly, straining for flight. They're all staring at it, this is the first time Charles has been so close. Finally, Raven breaks the silence, "Where's Hank?"

"I'm here." Charles stares for a moment before looking away and composing himself. When they'd seen Hank's destroyed room, Charles had thought the cure had simply not worked. "It didn't attack the cells, it enhanced them. It didn't work."

His first feeling is shock, seeing Hank like this, a furry, heftier version of Raven. Then amazement that Hank had managed to get here without anyone seeing him. Then finally a strange feeling of horror, because if this is what Hank's cure had done to him, what would it had done to Raven? Glancing at her, Charles can see she's thinking the same thing, although she hides it well.

"Yes it did Hank." Is she using her powers to make herself taller? She looks it, touching fingertips to the sides of Hank's face, she doesn't look the half-head shorter Charles knows she is. "Don't you see? This, is who you were meant to be." She lifts his head, "This is you. No more hiding."

"Never looked better." Erik smiles, Hank's determination to hide has always irritated him. He'll have to deal with his powers now, and that's good.

Hank doesn't think so, spinning around to face Erik and snarling, raising threatening hands that Charles sees, with shock, are now threatening claws. "Don't mock me." His teeth are needle-sharp.

He doesn't know what Erik does, only that he wouldn't be able to do it. He draws himself up to a height he doesn't have, and seems to take up more room than anyone could. It seems to be a power all Dominants have, to bend the world around them until they're the largest ones in the room. Hanks backs down.

"I wasn't."

Whatever he's doing, he stops, and Hanks lets out a breath. Running clawed fingers through hair-turned-fur.

"Even I got to admit you look pretty bad-ass." Alex puts in. Darwin glances at him, preparing to diffuse the latest mess. "Think I got a new name for you, Beast."

Hank growls.

* * *

><p>The sea is a warzone when they get to it, although no shots have been fired yet. Perversely, Erik feels calmer now than he has since the President's announcement last night. Perhaps it's the metal of the ships and the plane, a reassurance that he is far from powerless, and can keep them all safe. That's good, because due to Hank's flying, everyone now knows they're here.<p>

Shaw's submarine is out there, although it's more of a needle in a haystack problem, with all the ships around it, picking out one lump of metal among so many, particularly at this height, is impossible.

"That one." He can just about see the ship, heading towards the embargo line, the American ships' gun barrels swivelling to point it out.

Charles nods, closes his eyes, frowns. Opens them almost at once. "They're all dead. Shaw's been there. He's set the ship for the embargo line." He licks his lips, swallows. Whatever it was, it hadn't been pleasant. A flash of rage that they're having to go through this, risk this, because the people down there, in those ships, are too stupid to know when they're being played for fools.

Erik reaches over and wraps his fingers around Charles'. Deep breaths, calm. Reaching in to find that calm place, liquid joy, cool fire. He can't get a grip on the ship. The plane is moving too fast and he can't keep it in sight. Something catches briefly and he feels metal groan and tear, but by what Moira's saying it wasn't enough. Worse, he's probably tipped Shaw off that they're here.

Charles squeezes his fingers, reassuring, and closes his eyes again. Erik smiles, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. _Good. Do it._ He snatches hold of the missile the moment it leaves the ship, yanking it away from the closest target - the plane- and down into the rogue ship. The range is still too far for him to be sure it hits, but it's close enough and the whiplash from the explosion rocks the plane, tumbling them over. He hears Raven shriek.

* * *

><p>Charles keeps his eyes closed, breathing deep and level. <em>Where are you?<em> If Shaw has his helmet on, Charles will know where he is, if only by that - hole- the man makes in the fabric of the world.

"Can you find him?" Erik's voice is coming from a long way off.

_No, too many minds. _Although he could be looking harder; if Shaw isn't wearing the helmet, the Charles could get into his head by mistake. After seeing what the man did to Erik and Frost's minds, he doesn't want to see what he did to his own.

"Damn." Erik swears, Charles opens his eyes, coming back to here and now, Erik's thoughts are racing. This is not a good place. They're out in the open, surrounded by warships. They can't draw this out. "We have to find him now."

Calm, settle, still. Charles tries to slow both their thoughts; he can't afford to burn himself out this fast, and risk what happened at the facility. He tunes out the arguments around him and tries to focus and relax. They have some time, they stopped the ships and Shaw won't try the same trick twice. He can think.

"-Nothing's on radar, and we don't have sonar!"

Charles was wrong, he didn't have time, which means he can't speak up in time to stop Sean from replaying "Yes, we do."

Charles turns his head as much as he can in these seats."Are you-"

Sean nods, so pale his freckles stand out like red ink. "Yeah." He starts climbing out of his chair.

"I'm going with you." Darwin is unstrapping himself from his seat as well.

Charles hesitates, "Are you sure?" He repeats, glances at Alex, who glares.

Darwin nods, "I can get back quick enough." he puts a hand on Charles' shoulder, a moment of _stopbeingprotectiveit'sweird_. Charles nods.

Sean gives him a slightly shaky smile as they stumble over to the open hatch.

"Thanks."

"It's that or your Dom'll come over and murder the lot of us." Darwin offers, "And we don't want that." He looks back once more at Alex, who's looking slightly pale. He nods, and gives a small smile.

"I'll be right back."

"Sure you will."

"Ready?" Charles rests a hand on Sean's shoulder. He's said all he can, taught them all he can. _Oh please let this work_. There have already been too many casualties.

Sean jumps, Darwin diving in after him. Sean- _Banshee_ the boy's thoughts echo in his mind. _I'm Banshee, and I'm not a boy - _soars off thewater, and his mind roars with delight. Darwin's own joy is not far behind, as his hands extend and web and beat the air, holding him up. A Greek chorus of delight in Charles' head.

"Hey, batman!" Sean shouts as he swoops back up and plunges underwater. Darwin grins and flies lower, not going underwater, just hovering above it, wingtips barely brushing the waves.

_I really hope none of the men on the ship have binoculars._ Erik comes to stand beside Charles, looking slightly sick.

_I thought I was supposed to be the overprotective one?_ Charles tries to tease. It doesn't work. Erik's face is stone.

_They are our people_. To protect at all costs. Charles puts a hand on Erik's shoulder.

_Here_! Sean's voice all but grins at him. _Got it._

Erik nods, he's got it too. _Are you ready for this? My trophy wall feels empty_.

This attempt at levity works, and Erik smiles. "Let's find out."

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the periphery Erik can see bat-winged Darwin join Sean underwater, the two of them swimming off to a safe distance. Erik digs his fingers into the plane's landing gear, grounding himself in the plane's solid metal presence. Then he reaches his other hand out, flat against the horizon. <em>Where are you<em>?

It's easier than he hoped; now he knows where to look. The submarine's shell recognises him, the metal pulling to his touch against the grooves he'd dug into it on their last meeting.

Charles might have meant it as a joke, but it's a lot easier to think of this as some great Arthurian task meant to show love and devotion than what it actually is; an attempt to get rid of a horrific threat before Shaw finally finishes what he started and kills them both.

Rage comes up first, old and worn and yes, he should have seen it long ago, useless, ragged like lace to exhaustion. It's instinct, and he pushes past it, to the warm place where Charles nests in his mind, where everything is safe and here and so very good.

_I'm here_. Charles whispers. _I'll always be here. I love you. Nothing anyone can do will ever change that._

Erik's breath catches in his chest. _Breathe_. The power like a storm, he holds on to the plane and lets it pour out of his outstretched hand, feels it catch and pull and - and -

It's a dark shadow at first, getting lighter as the sun reaches it. Dragged out tail first like some unimaginable sea creature, a fish story no one will ever believe. This time laughter snatches at his throat, hot and vital and brilliant. And this- he is doing this- it's actually working-

The propeller rises out, still spinning and flaying water everywhere, more streaming off the smooth sides as the rest of the submarine follows it. It's heavy; the weight drags on Erik's shoulder blades, caught between it and the plane.

The men on the boats must be seeing this and let them see. Erik shudders a breathless laugh. Let them see what they can do. This- who could do this? Nothing like this has been seen since time biblical. Let them see, and be in awe, and fear. Let them go home and tell all they see of these strange new creatures who can raise submarines with their bare hands.

They're almost at the beach now, and it's the work of a thought to raise it that little bit higher, level with the plane, a trophy.

_I'll need a very large wall_. Charles is laughing in his mind, everything bright and dazzling and-

-and there's someone on the ship. _The Nameless man_ Charles supplies, mind suddenly cold with fear. _The tornado maker. _There's something more, something Charles got from Frost's mind but there's no time as the man tears a whirlwind from the calm skies.

Erik freezes, torn between the metal of the plane and the metal of the submarine, certain that if he lets go of either he'll be thrown into the sea-

"Erik!"

The whirlwind hits, like- like- Erik doesn't know, like being hit by a truck from all sides. He drops the submarine and grabs hold of Charles' arm, the power flying like a current up his arm and locking him to the ground, holding them both as the wind pulls at them, trying to drag them out of the plane.

The submarine hits the shore like a beached fish, shattering to pieces on impact. Erik hangs on; he can feel his fingers slowly digging through the metal of the landing gear like knives in butter, Charles' wrist strong and solid in contrast. He fights the urge to close his eyes are the plane goes into a tailspin.

Charles is screaming something, a wild echo in his mind he doesn't hear, his fingers are slowly going through the cables, and something pops close to his head, the wheel shudders, suddenly swinging loose. They're losing height, rolling towards the shore, sea turning to breakers turning to sand. _Stop_, he tries to scream to the cables, _stop, please_. He can't get a grip on them, everything's too fast and they're fraying, cut through by his fingers and dragged on by the whirlwind.

_Take my hand!_ The words imprint on his mind miles high. Charles is reaching out with his free hand, eyes desperate. _Please!_

Too late, they're too close to the ground, and the plane is about the crash. He lets go of the landing gear the same moment it finally snaps, and grabs Charles' arm.

_Please, we can't leave them-_

Erik reaches for the metal in Charles' suit, in his, find, register and lock. He can do this. _We save ourselves-_

_Please!_ Charles' teeth are bared, a torrent of images –RavenMoiraAlex-

Erik wants to scream. _For once do as I say!_ He closes his eyes and releases Charles' suit from the plane.

* * *

><p>Charles feels Raven's scream as they drop from the plane. A moment's suspension, he's not even sure he's falling, lost somewhere in mid-air, as the plane roars overhead and the wind screams and everything is a blue of sand and sky and sea and wreckage.<p>

Then he lands against Erik, one solid point in sky. They're falling, he can feel Erik running his focus over them both and _pulling_-

-it's a full body jerk that almost tears him out of Erik's iron-hard grip. They stop suddenly in mid air, three feet above the beach. Then a buffet from the dying tornado hits them and Erik's focus fails, and they drop.

The fall is still hard enough to wind, Charles lands on top of Erik then falls back, and his focus is suddenly overwhelmed by the minutiae of sand in front of his face. His breath blows up clouds of grains and his mouth is already gritty.

He spits, "Erik!" The plane is falling towards the treeline.

It's unnecessary, Erik's already up and moving, one hand on his ribs. His eyes are blazing and it's like in Russia, that same wild exhilarated focus, thunder in his ears, lightning striking ground. His hands reach out for the plane, wind through something invisible in midair, feet set against the ground and shoulders hunched, as though in a tug-of-war.

Erik jerks forwards and Charles can feel it in his mind, the heavy wrench of the plane's remains, he ignores the body proper and the engines, only focusing on the metal tube of the neck and cockpit. Erik bares his teeth and pulls back. The plane disintegrates in midair, the barrels of the engines ripping off and crashing into the trees, bursting in flames, the wings cutting the burning palms down in the next moment, the body crushing everything left flat.

Erik drops to his knees, gasping, one hand going to his ribs where pain is only just making itself known, one hand still raised to keep up the head of the plane.

Charles reaches out to Raven and Moira and Alex _It's okay, Erik's got you_.

He gets something from Alex to the extent that this isn't very reassuring thanks, and a quick _are you alright_ from Raven. They're fine. Shaken, and more than a little apprehensive as Erik lowers them until they're on the ground.

Charles gets up slowly, his legs are still uncertain and he's rather reluctant to leave the reassuring solidity of the ground. Erik is still kneeling in the sand, breathing hard. When Charles comes close his hand snaps out and grabs his wrist, fingers like a steel trap. "Never do that again." His eyes are blazing, and every part of that fierce focus is now turned on Charles. "Never question me like that again. I have to know you'll obey me." _Now more than ever. There's still Shaw_. Erik's mind is starting to shake around the edges, aware how close they came to disaster. "Swear it!"

Charles breath comes heavily, "Yes, I will." _I'm sorry_. Now more than ever they have to work together, Charles closes his eyes, feeling Erik's despair that they ever will. Twenty years might just be too much. Ironic that Shaw might as well have engineered that as well.

There's noise coming from the downed plane, so close to the remains of the submarine. Shaw's men. Angel. Charles closes his eyes and can see them, Moira shooting from behind a fragment of wing-tip, Raven leaping out at the teleporter and smashing him with fists suddenly the size of sledgehammers, Hank a heartbeat behind her, Alex blasting the Nameless man so hard he flies into the side of the submarine and doesn't get up again.

The teleporter disappears with Raven, Charles' eyes open in horror, staring up at a distant speck in the sky. _No_.

"Charles!" Erik grabs him. "Focus!"

"He's got Raven!" His mind lashes out, and he feels the teleporter suddenly slump limp, knocked out by the blow. Both of them falling now, far down towards the blue sea and the ship as small as toys.

"She can look after herself!" Erik shakes him. _I need you_.

And Raven must have seen Darwin, because her hands are sprouting wings as well, bones hollowing, body shrinking, she can't become a bird, but she's the next best thing-

_Do as he says Charles_. And even from so far away, he knows she's smiling, _We'll take care of you_.

Charles closes his eyes, deep breath, and opens them. He nods at Erik. _Tell me what to do_.

* * *

><p>"Find Shaw. End him and we end this." If Charles is right, fear is the only thing keeping Shaw's men fighting. Angel might be a danger, but she's just one person.<p>

Charles closes his eyes for a third time, fingers going to his head. "I can't feel him. He has to be in the submarine. There's a-" an image of a great expanse of emptiness, like part of the world has been blacked out- "in the submarine. He's got to be there. I read the teleporter's mind. Shaw's drawing all the power out of the ship, turning himself into some kind of nuclear bomb.

There's a- it's hard to be sure, a vibration through both their minds. Charles jerks to look back at the ship. "It's Moira." He gives a shaky smile. "She's thinking very loudly to get through. She's saying the giger reading's off the scale."

"Then we go now." There are no words to describe how much Erik does not want to be doing this. A month ago this was the goal of his life, no he wants nothing more than to take them all and run.

They do run, but in the wrong direction. Somewhere beyond the submarine Erik can see flashes from Alex's powers, proof that they're still fighting. Charles still has his hand to his head, keeping touch with everyone.

_Raven's fine, Angel's giving her trouble, but she's got Sean and Darwin with her. They're- _fragmented – _oh damn-_

"Focus!" Erik gasps, his hand going to his side, it still hurts to breath, he landed badly. The flank of the submarine is rearing up in front of them, huge and grey and still gouged here and there, it hums welcome to Erik like an old friend.

This time his fingers tear straight through the iron skin, grabbing Charles and pulling them both up and into the submarine. _The middle of the vessel, that's where the dead zone is_.

Fear inside him so intense it's as though someone knotted his insides. Erik reaches of Charles, and he's just as terrified. Rage at least did something for that, Erik thinks.

"Here!" Charles jumps over to a sparking, half-wrecked machine, and pulls a lever down. "The nuclear reactor. He won't get any more for now."

They're going up against a nuclear bomb. Shaw as a nuclear bomb. Erik breaths deeply, and touches the side of Charles' face. Charles smiles. _We've got this far and we're still alive._

_If it was just this we would be fine._ Erik looks behind them. There's no sign of Shaw. Charles reaches up and pulls his head back around, kissing him so hard there isn't any space in his head for anything else. "Now. Ready?"

For anything. For you, anything. Erik nods.

* * *

><p>It's here, the empty place. Or close enough. It has to be. There's nowhere else, no other door. And it really is empty and Shaw's not there.<p>

Charles stares, "He has to be here!"

Erik exhales, relaxing from his fighting stance no one there. _Maybe I was right_, a wry smile, _maybe he did go to Westchester after all_.

"No, he's here." Charles turns, one wall after another, reaching with him mind but there's nothing, nothing but walls and ceiling and furniture that wouldn't be out of place in the White House. "He's not going to leave Cuba without his war, not even to-" He breaks off, shakes his head. _Not now_. They're frightened enough already. There's something off about this, something Charles can't quite place-

-Then it hits him. They're in here, but Charles can still feel the others outside. He can still feel Moira scrambling from more ammo as Hank tries to fight off the now-awake teleporter, defending- god, Alex is down- In the distance he can feel Raven, Darwin and Sean dogfighting against Angel. He can still _feel_ them.

"This isn't the right room."

He feels it before he sees it, just behind him. Erik's face suddenly a blank mask of barely hidden _furyragefearhorror._ God, how often did he have this nightmare? Being in a room, unable to move as the monster comes up behind him. The only difference is he can move, and spins around.

Shaw is standing there.

Something in Charles' throat freezes, his backbone becomes so stiff if feels brittle. He lashes out instinctively _keep away_, and his mind is sucked into the blank empty _nothing_ of the room Shaw's in. He pulls away, one step back, feeling suddenly small and naked and very, very scared.

The room is lined with mirrors, and Charles can't get anything from it. The reflections throw cold blue light on Shaw, on Erik's face. Shaw's dressed in such clothes- god, this was deliberate- add insignia and you have an SS uniform.

"Erik. What a pleasant surprise."

* * *

><p>Shaw's eyes are as blue as Charles' in the icy light. He's smiling, that same, slow, lazy smile he wore on their last encounter. Utterly confident.<p>

_He can blast up the pieces with a thought_, the only part of Erik's mind that isn't frozen screams at him – or maybe it's Charles – _of course he's confident._

"How good to see you."

Erik had thought things would be easier now, when he was standing in front of Shaw. It isn't. If anything, the fear is louder than ever. For all his fears, too much of the last twenty years' damage has been undone and the rage is a groping, fleeting thing.

It's an enormous effort to move, one step in front of Charles. _Do something_. He isn't sure who's thought that was either.

Shaw eyes trace from him to Charles, and he sneers. "And disappointing."

And maybe that's enough, because suddenly the world flows back, focus down to the last molecule, each breath tastes of electricity. Erik stretches out a hand and reaches for the shell of the submarine around them. Shaw's expression doesn't change. He shakes his head.

"Erik, Erik, Erik." He takes a step forward, through the door; the heat radiating from the room is incredible.

_Radioactive_, Charles' thought are short and stilted, his mind is scrabbling against Shaw's helmet, trying to find purchase and failing. _If we don't get out-_

Erik tunes him out. Shaw is still talking.

"After all we did together. All our _work_." Shaw shakes his head, like a father disappointed with a son, a teacher with a pet pupil. "And I hear from Angel you threw all that away and went back to the same, _weak_ ways." He looks back at Charles again. "I should have known. Such a powerful mutant couldn't have been collared by a human. Erik. I really thought I had taught you better."

_Erik_- Charles whispers.

_Not yet._ Erik spreads his focus to the pipes and beams above them, a spider's web, only a few steps and he can draw them down to trap Shaw.

_It won't- he'll just-_

"And this. Why are you on their side? Why fight for a doomed race who'll hunt us down the moment they realise their reign is coming to an end?" Shaw is only a pace away, Erik could strike and get at least most of the net in, but he doesn't move. Of all the things Shaw could have said, this is the last thing Erik was expecting. Words that he might have said himself.

But then what did he expect? Charles was right, he had been refusing to see Shaw for what he was, another mutant. And Shaw knew as well as he did what humans were.

_And what mutants can become! _Charles thoughts are knives. _Stop him!_

He lifts his hand, and the sky falls in. Pieces of decorative plaster and plastic rain on them, the metal comes down in coils, snaring Shaw head to foot like a thousand snakes. Erik lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Shaw looks down at himself, then back up at Erik, pitying. "Oh Erik."

_Get his helmet off!_ Charles shouts, _I can stop him then._

"I'm sorry for what happened in the camps." Shaw lifts his arms and the metal starts to bend upwards, "I truly am." Erik forces them back down and for a moment everything is still, absolute tension. "But everything I did, I did for you. To unlock your power." The metal starts to glow, held between two such unrelenting forces. Here and there it drips onto Shaw's sleeve, white-hot and molten, only to fade to grey and click to the earth, cold and drained. "To make you embrace it." Shaw raises his arms again, the metal falls from him, hot and cold, cold and dripping.

Erik takes a step back and Charles moves to the side, flanking Shaw. _He's lying_. His mind is warm, sweet, water after a drought, sun after darkness. _He did nothing. If anything, he weakened you. Without him, you would have found true focus by yourself. He made you weak, Erik. He tried to destroy both of us_.

"You came such a long way from bending gates. I was so proud of you." The wires answer Erik's call, they coil down behind Shaw. Shaw doesn't notice. Charles manages a weak smile; _You're brilliant_, coming up behind Shaw. "And that was just scratching the surface. Think how much further we could go. No more weakness, no more weaklings dragging you down. You and I, equals."

Erik's focus trembles, suddenly revolted to his core. _Ignore him_. Charles' thought a bright beacon. _He's lying, he'd say anything to get you to stop._

"Together."

The tension is so unbearable there's nothing to do but break it. Erik brings his hand around and the wires snap in and snatch the helmet from Shaw's head. Shaw spins around, face fracturing from a pleasant smile to a roaring twisted mess. Charles' hand is at his temple in a moment, just a moment.

One moment.

And in that moment Shaw covers the short step between them and presses his fingers to Charles' chest, everything goes white hot and heat so intense Erik throws up his hands to shield his eyes, grabbing at Charles with his powers to pull him _away-_

Charles is thrown into the mirror room, strikes the pedestal.

The bond goes dead.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to hurt you Erik, I never did."<p>

Erik's kneeling on the floor, an infinite moment now. _No. No. Please. No._ He drags in a breath that tastes of the tears running down his face. _Please. Charles. Charles. Please._ There's nothing. Just blank dead where the bond used to be. It's still there, but there's nothing at the other end.

Shaw sits down in front of him. He's still smiling. "It hurt me so much to do that to you. But I had to. Your potential Erik. So much potential. Everything you could do, I could see it all, even then. But that link." He taps the side of Erik head, a dull pressure more heard than felt. "Such a weakness. A foolish, _human_ weakness. We are their successors, we should not be held back by their failings."

Erik's hands shake. The submarine groans, but the focus is gone, his mind slips over hatred, rage, love, joy, triumph- it's all the same. All swallowed up by the huge gaping _emptiness_ which has opened inside him. _No._ Screaming denial into eternal night. _No._

"This is our time. Our age." He should be doing something. Shaw is right there, just in front of him. Inches away. Smiling. His helmet is on the floor three feet away and it's that if nothing else that makes it real. Shaw isn't even afraid.

Erik digs his nails into his skull, he wants to tear it apart, he wants Charles back. He wants- his breath comes in a gasp that's more of a sob. He's failed. He's failed utterly. He should- he should have never come. He should have _known_. Death follows in his footsteps. He should have left. Even left without Charles and gone far, far away. Somewhere he couldn't hurt anyone. Charles. Charles who he was to protect. It was one thing, the one thing, and he couldn't do it.

"You and me, son. This world could be ours."

And something, somewhere, snaps. Erik screams, something that isn't even remotely human or mutant but purely animal. He lunges at Shaw and it's a mark of his rage and Shaw's surprise that he manages to knock him over. Shaw laughs. He's _laughing_. He's laughing and Charles is lying dead only a few feet away. Erik throws back his head and no one could even describe the sound that comes from his throat. His hands beating down on Shaw's face, knotted against his neck. _Die! For once do something right and die! Can't you even do that-_

Shaw's still laughing. He pushes Erik off as though Erik was back to being twelve and thirty kilos. His hand catches Erik's arm and squeezes until the bones snap. The other catches him around the throat and hauls him up until they're both face to face. The hand tightens lazily until Erik is gasping for every breath, tears still running hot and desperate and useless down his face.

"Erik." He can feel Shaw's breath. "Always the same. So predictable." Shaw shakes his head. "Everything I've offered you, and you just throw it away. Everything I've _done_ for you! And for what? A stupid, broken, weak-willed toy who's dead anyway. What a waste. _What a waste_." He shakes his head again.

This is it then. Erik's lips twists into something like a smile. Shaw has nothing left to threaten him with now, and his only regret will be that he couldn't take him down with him. Erik bares his teeth and spits in Shaw's face.

And it's after this, after everything Erik's done, after months of fighting and years of hunting and _everything Erik's done_, that Shaw snaps. His eyes flare, his grip tightens until Erik can't breathe at all, and his face twists into something more animal that anything else. The next step in evolution. Erik's mind mocks, and it's a shame Shaw isn't a telepath and Erik hasn't the breath to tell him this out loud.

"You ungrateful little shit." For as long as Erik's known Shaw, he's never heard him swear. "You just don't care, do you? You'd lie down and spread your legs for those human bastards. You'd let them rule, show your belly and let them ruin you. Everything I've given you, everything I've made you; and you'd thrown that away for a pretty face and some senseless jabber in your head."

Erik bares his teeth again. _Go on you bastard. Do it. You can't hurt me any more. End it._

Shaw takes a deep breath, composing himself. His fingers change grip, pressing against Erik's spine. "I suppose there's some poetry to it. I made you; it would be up to me to destroy you. I am your creator." His thumb presses against the underside of Erik's jaw, ready to snap his neck.

"No." It's very simply spoken. A statement of fact. As though the speaker were simply answering a question during a lecture "No you are not."

Charles is sitting propped up against the doorframe, breathing hard, blood running down the side of his face.

* * *

><p>Shaw's mind is nothing like he imagined it. He'd tried rather hard not to, but if asked Charles would probably have compared it to the last few minutes of dragging his useless legs over the broken floor, watching Shaw slowly strangle Erik and being unable to reach through the walls and stop it. Slow, detailed, delicate torture.<p>

It's nothing like that.

Charles has seen minds like this in the truck driver stops he and Erik ended up at when they were searching for mutants. Dominants who beat their Subs bloody and told themselves it was for their own good. He'd seen them in the mind of his stepfather, who'd brutally abused his own son and would have turned his attention to Charles and Raven if they hadn't stopped him. He'd _read _about these men, in the books and reports on the Eichmann trial.

The Banality of Evil.

Charles laughs, laughs and laughs and laughs until his broken legs scream with pain and tears come. _This_ is what they were scared of? This stupid, sad, pathetic excuse of a man who was so desperate to prove he was nothing like his scraping, servile Submissive of a father that he did this. All of this. _This _is the man who ruined their lives, who killed Erik's mother, who so nearly killed them both. Who destroyed Emma Frost and broken the Nameless man and nearly caused World War Three.

_No wonder the Nazis were so eager to have you._ He snarls at Shaw._ You're just like them. Pathetic. Small and weak_. It's the work of a moment to pull out all the carefully hidden fears and doubts. All tucked away behind the great and terrible mantle of Sebastian Shaw.

Shaw falls to his knees, screaming. Erik collapses to the floor behind him, one hand to his neck where he will definitely have bruises.

_This is what you are_. He tells him. _This. Nothing more._

He shreds Shaw's dreams, the megalomaniac delusions of such a small man. _You would have been worshipped by nothing but bones. _

The delusions of strength. _ This is not strength. This is the stripping away of strength until there's nothing but a brittle shell. One tap and it shatters._

The delusions of unity. _You rule through fear and madness, none would ever follow you._

The delusions of superiority. _You are proof contrary. You have tarred the name of our species before it even started. You are a torturer and a murdered equal to the foulest members of the human race. But do not worry. We will make sure you are forgotten. We will show humanity the true glory of our people._

_Then, please, please kill me. _Shaw is clawing at his face; blood is streaming over the expensive carpets. His eyes are already gone. _Make it stop_. A sob in the mind, tears from eyes no longer able to make them. _I'm sorry_.

_I shouldn't. You deserve this and far far worse. I could trap you in a repeating nightmare from which you'd never wake up. It's little enough compared to what you did to us both. You would feel this, only this, never getting used to it, always as raw, for the rest of your life._

_Please- pleasepleaseplease-_

_But you are fortunate. Because despite everything you've done, I'm _not _you. And neither is Erik. We are the better men._

And in that last moment, before Charles turns all the light off and brings this endless horror, this cavalcade of nightmares, to an end, Shaw is weeping for joy, face turned to the ceiling as if blessed by god.


	9. Unbroken

**Unbroken**

Every breath hurts. Each step jars his broken arm. Erik holds it against his chest, hunched over. It isn't far. Five steps and he collapses next to Charles. Charles drags his eyes off Shaw's crumpled body and looks at him. Smiles. Under the blood his eyes are bright and his mouth is sweet. Erik's hand trembles, reaching out to sweep clotted hair out of his face. Charles catches his hand in his, presses it to his cheek. "It's okay."

_It's okay. It's okay. Okayokayokay. _He echoes in Erik's mind, warm and _there_.

Erik closes his eyes; something inside him unknots and tears burn. He can't hold him, and instead just huddles close, burying his face in the crook of Charles' neck. Charles' arms come up around him.

_Shhh, I'm here_. Charles nuzzles his hair, kisses the crown of his head. _You've got me. We're safe_.

_Got you_. Erik repeats blankly. He lifts his head and meets Charles' lips. Sweet. Tender and sweet. He tastes of sweat and tears and blood from the cut on his head. It shocks Erik out of the grey limbo, he reaches out and cups Charles's cheek, brushes the strands of hair out of the way.

Charles closes his eyes, a great bloody lump just above his left brow. He winces when Erik touches it. Opens his eyes. "How's your arm?"

"Broken." In several places probably. "Your legs?"

Charles looks down at his legs, a little helplessly. One leg is bent at an unnatural angle, blood staining his suit where the bone broke skin. He laughs, doubled over and trembling.

"Charles?" Erik runs his good hand down his back. He reaches through the bond – it feels so good- and buries himself in Charles' mind. _Charles_.

"I'm sorry." Charles rubs his eyes. "Just- broken. Both of us."

_I don't care_. "We're alive." He hadn't dared imagine that far.

Charles tries to pulls himself away from the doorway. Behind him, the mirror room is streaked here and there with blood where Charles had had to drag himself along the floor after hitting the stand. The mirrors reflect the red over and over.

Together, they manage to pull themselves away from the room, and huddle against the wall behind one of Shaw's armchairs. The submarine is completely silent, the lights dimming slightly, then brightening as backup generators come online. Half the ceiling's come down and a bookcase from an upper room has landed on the sofa. Three feet away, Shaw is bleeding face down on the carpet.

_I'm sorry_. Charles closes his eyes and tucks his head under Erik's chin. He's calmer, hysteria backing down. _That room, he engineered it so that no telepathy or- anything else- could get through_. _A safe place for him. No one would go in willingly._

Erik nods, dropping his head back against the wall behind them. Deep breaths, calm. Nothing feels real just yet. His arm is beginning to hurt very badly.

"Here." Charles touches the side of his head, and the pain stops. _Blocked off the receptors_. He smiles. "I did the same, so I can't feel my legs."

"Good." Erik runs his good hand over Charles' shoulders and back, checking for any other injuries. The place where Shaw touched his chest is burnt through to the metal plating Erik had ordered Hank include. Charles smiles at him, brilliantly. _Thank you_.

Erik pauses, braces his hand on Charles' chest, again seeing Shaw spin around, one hand reaching out to push two fingers and untold amounts of power into Charles' chest. His hands shake. Charles pushes himself forward and hugs him, mindful of his broken arm. _I'm fine. Thanks to you. Shh, love, I'm fine_.

* * *

><p>Erik pulls out the metal from the walls and starts trying to splint his arm together, somehow finding determination despite the exhaustion.<em> Don't<em>. Charles touches his shoulder, _You'll hurt yourself_. He isn't a doctor, and neither is Charles. They need to get to a hospital.

_They need us outside_. Erik glares at him. _This isn't the first time I've done this_.

Images of those other times, times where Erik was hurt but hospitals were out of the question. _They aren't now, and we've be more of a hindrance than a help out there_. He can't walk, and anything they could do to help they can do just as well from in here.

"Tell them Shaw's dead." Erik's voice is hoarse, vivid red marks standing out on his throat like some perverse kind of collar. "You said they're only following him out of fear, tell them he's dead."

Charles closes his eyes; he can barely believe it himself. It's over. Finally, at last, the nightmare is over. They'll be able to go home and rest and heal and he'll have his winter with Erik, isn't that worth a few broken bones? _It's done_. He shouts, so loudly the men on the ships can probably hear him. _Shaw's dead. Go home. There's nothing more here_.

The responses come as a tidal wave; Charles winces and clutches the side of his head. Angel is screaming denial. Moira sends him a clumsy mental hug. Raven demands to know if he's okay. Sean shouting 'go team'. Darwin laughing weakly, kneeling next to Alex. Hank growling at the teleporter and the Nameless Man who are – god – more relieved than they are. The men on the ships-

The men on the ships.

Even at this distance, Charles can feel their nameless, shouting fear of what they've seen. A weapon which can raise a submarine, suits which allow people to fly. Energy weapons which can tear a beach apart. No discernable sides. Orders to destroy at once. Beside Charles Erik jumps to his feet, stumbling and falling over when his arm – without Charles to deaden it – jars hot glass shards of pain. He can feel it too, the missiles, the ships pulling in range to launch. There's enough firepower on those ships to turn most of the island into a glass crater.

Charles almost laughs, helpless. It seems as though Shaw will have his war after all. If opening fire on a communist allied nation with a thousand rockets isn't a pretext for war, nothing will be. Never mind that some of these ships are Soviet, they will claim the beach as their victory, and that it was the American rockets that laid waste to the following ten kilometres.

_Charles_. Charles opens his eyes. Erik is kneeling down in front of him, shaking slightly, holding his own arm so tightly his knuckles are white. _Make them leave_._ Get rid of them_.

Charles stares. "I can't. Maybe if I had Cerebro, but at this range, there's so many-"

_You can_. Erik looks at him steadily; each word of his thoughts cast of the same unbreakable metal that saved Charles' life. _You stopped Shaw. You stopped the ship. You can stop them._ He lets go of his arm and cup's Charles' face. _You showed me how to do this. You have to do this. Or we all die._

There's no time. Charles can feel the others start to panic. They've seen the ships too. Moira is screaming into the Blackbird's microphone, to no response. Darwin is trying to get as many of them as possible into the water, out to sea and underwater to escape the firestorm. Angel is screaming at the ship, ready to fly off and go down fighting – _asShawwouldhavewanted _- the teleporter and the Nameless man holding each other, hesitating – _theyarelikeustakethemwithus-_ and Raven – oh, Raven – she's running to get to the submarine, trying to get to them at all costs.

Charles closes his eyes, tries to remember the feeling in Cerebro, the world opening up around him. He can do this. He's reached across continents, he can do a few miles. Erik's lips meet his, hot, demanding, steadying. His hand on Charles' neck, pressing in against the collar. Peace. Calm. Control.

_Obey me_.

Rage and serenity.

He goes to the captains first. A mental net spanning the whole sea, he can feel their minds, the weight of command, the ten thousand ways of hiding fear, authority like a cloak around them, given by all those around them. _No_. _Stop. These are not your orders. Your orders are to leave. The ship has been stopped. Your role is done. Go home. You saw nothing in this place._

The communications officers. The constant fear, to repeat messages exactly and hope not to be blames for their contents, alert for any signal. _Radio is dead. Switch it off. Throw the switches and forget you ever did so_._ You had no orders to kill anyone. You reported the ship was stopped and they ordered you to go home. You saw nothing in this place._

The gunnery officers, their fingers on the buttons to launch the rockets. _You will not fire. There is nothing to fire on. You were joking, or carrying out an exercise. It is done. You are going home now. You saw nothing in this place._

Those steering_ Turn the ship. Just so. Leave now. Those were your orders. You saw nothing in this place._

_ There was nothing. You saw nothing. You heard nothing. There was nothing in this place. _Shouted out, implanted in, through the ships top to bottom, he can't afford to miss one. One missile fired will kill them all and start Shaw's war.

_I'd catch them_. Erik's voice is a whisper in his own ear. Somewhere, far in the distance, Charles is aware of his own body, slumped against the submarine wall with Erik kneeling by him. _I'd catch them and throw them back, it's okay_.

_My friend_. A thousand miles away, Charles feels himself smile. _You can't even stand_.

* * *

><p>Charles's eyes move behind closed lids, flicker, blink, and finally open slowly, like waking up from a deep sleep. His body more than the still shell it had been for the last few minutes. Far away, beyond the beach, Erik can feel the pull as the warships withdraw.<p>

"I have no idea where I just sent them." Charles gives a weak grin. "For all I know they'll try to sail to their hometowns."

"It was perfect." Erik sits down beside Charles, wincing as the broken bones grind together. Charles frowns, and the pain fade, less than before, still there but bearable. "You are-" the laugh hurts his throat "- better at this than I am. You should be the Dominant."

Charles smiles, closes his eyes again and rests his head on Erik's shoulder. _You were the one who gave the order. I will always obey you._ _You are the only one who can do this_.

* * *

><p>The door suddenly bursts open. Charles jumps so hard his legs jar. He hadn't remembered to numb them and the pain is blinding. Raven is running so fast she doesn't see Shaw until she almost trips over him. She skids to a halt, looking down at the crumpled body and the red pool soaked into the rich carpet, the up and finally sees them. "Charles! We have to go, the ships are about to fire-"<p>

It's easier to speak in her mind, talking is too much effort. _It's fine. We got rid of them; they're leaving as we speak._

Raven hesitates, but seeing both of them relatively calm is enough to satisfy her. Her shoulders slump, she exhales, and looks back down at Shaw. "That's him?"

It's rhetorical, but Charles nods anyway. Raven walks over and kicks the body over. They all flinch, all for different reasons. Erik because there's still far too much of Shaw in that face, Raven because there isn't any, and Charles because he did this. He drove Shaw to mutilate his own face until he is bare recognisable. The eyes bloody burst pits, skin rent open so deep bone is visible here and there. Bottom lip almost torn off completely, revealing the grinning teeth of a skull.

Raven shudders, and looks away. "Are you two okay?" Her eyes land on Charles' legs, Erik's arm "What happened?"

Erik jerks his head at Shaw. Raven winces. "Can you walk?"

Charles shakes his head. Raven glances at Erik for permission, he nods. "We're not getting out otherwise."

Raven takes on her fighting form, seven feet tall and covered in muscle. She picks Charles up as though he weighs nothing. Only Erik's pride is stopping him for asking for the same. Whatever he might have said, Charles was right, standing takes more out of him than he cares to admit.

Raising the submarine, saving the plane, fighting Shaw, that would be enough on its own. But it's the bruised feeling inside his head that finished him. The raw place where the bond was ripped out and suddenly replaced, the sight he resigns himself to seeing a thousand time in his nightmares, of Shaw turning to Charles, light wreathing his fingers.

Erik shakes his head to clear the images out. He pushes the door open, leaning for a moment against the frame, deep breath, come on. Not much further. He leads them out of the submarine.

Outside is unnervingly still. Darwin, Sean and Alex are sitting in the surf, warily watching the ships drift away, tense and ready to run if they return. Darwin's arms around Alex' waist, ready to carry him if necessary. Moira and Hank are further up the beach, facing the Nameless man, the teleporter and Angel. Hank's teeth are bared, Moira is pointing her gun at them.

And she might be on their side, but Erik has had enough with human threats today. The gun falls to pieces in her hands and the energy it takes just to do that makes Erik stumble. They all turn to look at them.

"Charles!" Moira looks so relieved Erik almost forgives her for the gun. She runs up to them.

Charles is smiling, _I'm fine_ amended to_ I'll be fine._

Erik looks back as what were Shaw's people. They look at each other, none wanting to be the first to approach the one- they assume- who killed Shaw. Finally, the red demon approaches, the teleporter. He looks at Erik, taking in his broken arm and torn clothes. "He's dead?" His accent is heavy and Russian.

Erik nods. "You can see for yourself if you don't believe me."

The teleporter shakes his head. "He would have been glad it was you. He often spoke of you."

Erik snorts, and has to bite back manic laughter. Shaw would have been disgusted that it was Charles who killed him.

The weak, snivelling, dependant Submissive. Who killed him.

Erik can't help it; he throws back his head and laughs. He couldn't believe it until now. He's free. For the first time in twenty years, he's finally free.

* * *

><p>Erik doesn't correct their assumption. Let them believe it. It's safer this way. He's the obvious choice; Dominant and visibly powerful. They can accept him as Shaw's successor as they never would Charles. Let him be the figurehead, the decoy. Let him draw their fire. Let them never know that Charles is more powerful than any of them could dream of being.<p>

Charles hesitates at the implications he feels, circling Erik's thoughts. Then he looks out at the disappearing ships, remembers the fear, the distrust. It could happen again. It might not. With humanity there are no guarantees. They gave their lives in the facility, and nearly destroyed them all in their fear here. There is no way to know. But Erik is right in one thing; this is not a risk they can take.

_I'll keep us safe_. He doesn't know if the thought is his or Erik's. _Always_.

Maybe if Hank built another Cerebro it would be much easier, he could make the CIA forget there ever were mutants, cover their tracks and disappear completely. Erik smiles, warm approval. _Together._

"Guys?" Sean is standing, up to his knees in surf. "How are we getting out of here?"

Erik looks at the teleporter. "We need to leave." In the absence of their leader, he seems to have to adopted as his successor. The man nods, outwardly calm, but inside he's a storm of desperation for anywhere to go. Shaw had been the only one who'd accepted them, and any price had been worth paying to escape the murderous world beyond. If these people would take them, they'd go.

Moira looks at him, then back at Charles. "Are you sure?"

Charles nods, _it's fine._ He won't forget that this man had been willing to murder dozens of people, and allow his own Submissive to be mutilated, to pay Shaw's price. But right now, they need him.

Darwin pulls Alex up, one arm around his shoulders – Charles isn't the only one with broken bones – and Sean follows them up the beach. The teleporter- Azazel, if he's with them now, Charles had better get used to using his name – takes the Nameless man's hand, and hold the other out to Angel.

She doesn't move, crossing her arms across her chest. Azazel shrugs, brushing her off as though she were a fly, and takes Moira's hand instead.

_Please come_. It physically hurts to speak to her like this, but Charles won't look away again. _I'm sorry. It isn't what you think. You are welcome here. You belong with us_.

"I know where I belong." It's pride, Charles realises, amazed, she's somehow twisted up her own pain and loss and created pride from it. She's proud of who she is and what she's done, and she is not about to leave it behind and go with someone who had to fight to look her in the face. "It's not with you." She turns away.

Her wings are translucent in the setting sun, almost invisible as she takes to the air. _Go well. I'm sorry_. Charles doesn't know if she hears him.


	10. Burn the Land

** Burn the Land**

"Raven went in." Erik's finger gently trace the outline of Charles' collarbone through his layers of clothing. "She said Frost was already gone. Two of the guards had their faces melted off."

"Angel." Charles sighs. He'd hoped- never mind what he'd hoped. He hoped the two women would be able to help each other. He only wished-

Erik must have heard some of that because his fingers tighten. "They don't deserve your attention. I can have Raven show you some of the plans the humans had."

Charles pinches the bridge of his nose. His legs ache dully through the splints and plaster, against the metal pins holding the bones together. "Does anyone remember anything?"

"No. Frost might not be you, but she was thorough. Raven made sure no one would find the bodies."

He wishes it wasn't like this. He wishes Angel had stayed. He wishes Raven didn't have to deal with things like this. He wishes three of the ships he'd sent away hadn't ended up in the Potomac with no idea how they'd got there. He wishes a lot of things. He doubts many of them will come true. After what happened in Cuba, what could so easily have happened, Charles thinks he might have used up his lifetime's store of good luck.

"Did you get the pieces Hank needed?"

He feels Erik bristle. "Yes, although I still don't see why-"

The feeling of battling uphill has become a familiar one. "We need to disappear. We need to be able to make them forget." Charles rubs his face, maybe in time, in a few years, he would be able to let go and just give into Erik as he so desperately wants to. But he can't, neither of them are in any shape to fall into the relationship they'd been born for. Maybe in time. Maybe.

"They'll find out about us sooner or later Charles." There's a bite of anger, anger at the world for not being the way it should be. "We can't hide forever. We won't."

"No," Charles agrees. "But the first time humans find out about us shouldn't be with one of us trying to start World War Three." Behind him, Erik stiffens, Charles' legs ache. Even dead, the thought of Sebastian Shaw still hurts. A moment's silence. "I want him forgotten." Charles whispers. "I want him never to have existed."

Erik puts his good arm around Charles- the other is still in a sling. "Yes." Erik would do a great deal to make it so Shaw had never been.

"We don't have to hide for long, but when they see us we'll be doing something worth being discovered for." Something great and unforgettable, something to show them as great and good and unstoppable.

"There will still be those who want to hurt us."

Charles smiles sadly. "That's what you're here for." Shaw's people- now Erik's- are slowly settling in. They don't talk to anyone much, and the mansion is more than big enough for them to have the space they need, until they're ready to face the world again.

And that's why Charles wants Hank to finish with Cerebro so he can finish making the powers of the world forget about mutants entirely- they all need time. Time to heal, time to recover. One winter. That would be enough. One winter of peace before entering the fray again. He covers Erik's hand with his own and squeezes.

* * *

><p>"The CIA want me back." Moira sits down at the breakfast table. Erik's back knots up at her words.<p>

"When?"

"Pretty much immediately." She swallows a mouthful of coffee, staring at the mug. "Are you still planning to disappear?"

Charles nods. "Cerebro should be ready in a few days."

Moira nods. "I'd make it fast." She bites her lip, swirling the coffee in her mug under Erik's glare. "I won't tell them anything!" She bursts out, suddenly angry. "How could you think that-"

Really, quite easily- but no. Moira might be human, but then so was his mother, and Shaw was a mutant. She's been nothing but loyal thus far. Still- "They could make you tell them anyway."

By Moira's expression, that possibility had occurred to her. She takes a deep breath. "I won't." he voice is even. "They can threaten me, do whatever they want. I won't tell them where you are." Another swallow of coffee, "And it'll only be for a few days, after all." She doesn't sound convinced. A lot can happen in a few days.

"Please stay, for goodness sake." Charles leans forward as far as he can. "It's too dangerous for you to meet with them like this." He rubs the side of his head and Erik can feel him trying not to think of the plans they found in the holding facility.

"And if I don't? I'll be a deserter then. A defector, whatever. I'll lose everything." She spread her hands, they're stuck.

Normally, Erik would have told Charles to wipe her mind. Normally. Erik hasn't felt normal in a long time, and he hopes very much he never will again. Besides, Moira could be of a lot of use to them, in the CIA.

"I can try and make them forget that as well." Charles pinches his nose, trying not to think of the work ahead. Erik touches his shoulder. There's already too much to do. All the paperwork to burn, all the minds to catch.

"I have to go back." Moira insists, "Look, if I don't, it won't just be me they'll come after." Desperation touches her voice. Charles blinks.

"They know-"

"Where he is. Of course." Moira smiles ruefully. "Look, I work for the CIA, do you think any of us went a week in the job without tracking down our Subs? Chicago. He's only seventeen, I still have to wait a year."

"We can bring him in too, forget the laws. Moira," He can feel Charles' frustrated desperation to make her understand what this will mean. "If you go, I can't let you leave knowing everything you know. Not just where we are, but how many of us there are, what we can do. Cerebro. I'm sorry, but I can't. There are too many of us-"

Erik pulls Charles back in his wheelchair. The arms wrap around his wrists to keep him still, the collar tightens. _Calm_. He orders.

Charles closes his eyes. Moira's gone pale. "I'm sorry." It comes out rather gruff, but Erik is sorry, if only because Moira cares for Charles.

Moira is silent for a long moment, her coffee forgotten. "You'll be able to make them forget?" She says finally, "Completely?"

Charles nods.

"And him? You can make them forget about him? Make them shred all records?"

Erik nods.

Moira sighs. "God, I hope you're right."

Charles smiles. "You're staying?"

She smiles. "Do you really think I'd leave?"

* * *

><p>The winter is a cold one. Snow falls in sheets from December and doesn't stop, except for clear days where the sun reflects blindingly off the snow. It's the first winter Charles has had in Westchester since he was fifteen and left for university. He has no doubts that it will be the best.<p>

His legs have been out of plaster for a week. They ache when more snow is on the way. They're not wrong. It's late, and the light from the study makes the flakes shine like gold.

Charles stands and stretches. It's ridiculously satisfying. His joints pop and although he has to steady himself on a chair -still a few more weeks until he can give up the cane - he's _standing_. More than just that, it's one less of Shaw's marks he'll have to carry on him. Maybe he'll be able to go out tomorrow-

"You will _not_."

The firelight paints Erik in shades of scarlet where he's lying on his back on the rug, eyes glittering.

"I'll be careful." Charles knows he's sounding petulant, but he's been stuck inside for weeks and Erik's protectiveness, while warm and _right_, is becoming more than a little stifling. "I have metal in my bones, you think anything could happen to me?"

The flickering flames turns Erik's smile into something else, something wonderfully inhuman. He might hate seeing Charles hurt, have tried to hide the twisting pain of seeing Charles in a wheelchair, but he's possessively delighted with being able to feel Charles with his powers.

He's also deeply pleased with the pins in his own arm, happy that no matter what, he will never be helpless again. Charles has to content himself with trying very hard not to think about that, and doing his utmost to make sure Erik never find himself in that position.

Erik pats the rug beside him, and Charles eases himself down beside him. Brace his hand on the chair, slide his feet slowly from under him, reach down his free hand to balance on the ground, and finally let himself settle next to Erik. He's pulled down to lie on top of him, and Erik's lips burn against his.

Charles closes his eyes, rests his head against Erik's. Feels Erik's hand gently cups the back of his neck, trace the outline of the collar. Smile against his lips. Shh. Silence. Nothing but the crackle of flames and their breathing. Gentle, soft. Silent.

It's quiet out there too. Charles had still been in a wheelchair when the second Cerebro - Hank calls it Cerebra, and always refers to it in the feminine- was ready, and he'd reached out over two continents and made them quiet too. Removed the fear, the knowledge, everything. As far as the great powers know, the world came terribly close to war due to mutual stupidity, and that's as good a reason as many to make sure this Christmas/New Year is the best ever, nyet? Mutants only theoretical, and Charles can't help but push an undercurrent of _and they wouldn't be a threat even if they were real_.

It can't hurt.

The next day, they're so snowed in it takes them most of the morning to clear the drive. Alex spends half an hour trying fruitlessly to melt the snow with his energy blasts before the Nameless man - His name is Janos - takes pity on him and draws up two small tornadoes. Alex laughs. Janos smiles. The tension relaxes a little more.

Then Charles slips on some black ice and Erik carries him bodily back inside.

* * *

><p>Christmas is a messy affair. Erik doesn't say anything, but then he doesn't have to, and anyway he's not the only one to whom Christmas doesn't apply. It was Eid for Darwin and the Soviet New Year for Azazel, so they compromise and have a bit of everything. There's honey and a tree and a lot of vodka.<p>

And there are nine candles. Charles lined them up on the mantelpiece, then stepped back when Erik saw them, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. The desperate longing to please.

"We didn't have- I didn't know where to-" Charles gives up. _I though you would want to do this_.

_Yes._ Erik looks blankly at the candles. Beeswax. They had been beeswax once. Very fine, very sweet and beautiful. Erik can just about remember it. It was so long ago.

They had been cheap tallow the final time. All their protectors could scrape up from friends and neighbours and ration coupons. They had spluttered and dimmed and almost gone out several times.

And then everything had gone out, and it had been so many long years of darkness. And Erik was trying to bridge that with a handful of iron and a few candles. It seems mad. Better to let the dead lie.

Then there are warm arms around him, Charles' breath against his ear, holding on so tightly they might be drowning, in another place, and that not so long ago.

Erik covers Charles' hands with his own for a moment, then raises to the candles. He can feel the metal in the mantelpiece, in the grating under it, in his and Charles' very bones. He skims a little from the grate, a little from the mantelpiece, and searches his pockets for more.

His hand closes on a coin. He smiles. He can feel Charles grinning against the back of his neck. _Yes. Yes, that would be wonderful_.

It's late when there knock comes. Charles is half asleep on the sofa, curled up with his head on Erik's lap. He's watching Alex slowly nod off, too stubborn to go to bed, his head slowly drooping until it's resting against Darwin's shoulder. This time, he doesn't jerk awake and pull away, but just stays there, his whole weight coming to rest against his Dominant's side. Darwin glances at them, and puts a finger to his lips before carding his fingers through Alex' hair. Charles grins.

He must have sensed the person long before they knocked. Since he turned the ships away, his reach can hit New York even without Cerebra. Erik starts, an explosion of adrenaline before he slowly calms down - if it were an enemy, they probably wouldn't be knocking.

Charles gets up carefully. Erik steadies him, one hand on his shoulder, pushing him back before he unlocks the door.

The woman outside is tall, ageless, and unknown. Her hair is grey and flyaway, but her face is unlined and smiling, her eyes filmed-over white. Erik's glare no doubt goes unseen. "Who are you?"

"The ghost of Christmas yet to come." She might be blind, but she neatly sidesteps Erik. "Do I have to show myself in?"

Charles blinks. "It's you." She turns, and Charles knows she can see him, even if it's not with her eyes. "I saw you." Now he can't stop smiling. "Raven said you couldn't come yet."

The woman brushes flakes out of her hair. "Not then. Too many variables. Too much of that damned Dominant instinct to protect at all costs. It would probably have gone badly."

"You can see the future." Now she's close, Charles can see it without even trying, the infinite possibilities refracted through her eyes and throwing shadows around her. He has never found anyone who radiates so much utter confidence.

She doesn't answer, not out loud, but her mind speaks clearly and loudly. _Just an old woman. An old woman who's been alone far too long._ The confidence cracks, just a little, and there's excitement under there, and fear. The likelihood of being rejected is miniscule, but it's still there. And she has been alone for so long. Has _seen _Raven a thousand times in her visions, but could not be with her until now.

"Raven's upstairs." Charles' voice is suddenly a little hoarse. "Second floor."

The woman - "Destiny. Or Irene to my friends." She calls over her shoulder. "As we will be."

Erik blinks at where she'd disappeared up the stairs. "She's Raven's." Charles explains.

"I thought Raven was a Dominant."

"She is."

_Dear god-_ He can feel, under Erik's disbelief and amusement, the knowledge slots in. It's not quite trusted, as this Destiny isn't, but Charles knows soon enough Erik will hang on to it and her with all the strength he does every other part of his new life.

"At least you'll have something you can both complain about that isn't me." Charles points out.

They spend most of the night in the living room, both Alex and Darwin fast asleep by now, and Charles carefully keeps his telepathy pinned to this floor, giving Raven the privacy such a moment deserves.

* * *

><p>The room is packed and the voices a dull blur in Charles' mind. He's closed his mind as much as possible but even after Cuba, he can't cut everything off. He would very much rather not be here, but the choice wasn't his to make. It's a lot bigger than him.<p>

If this is to work. This. Their whole plan to reveal their kind to the world without prompting Shaw's war or Erik's Holocaust. If they want it to have a chance, they need the school to work. They need the safehouses Azazel and Riptide are setting up in New York, and beyond. They need funds to buy out their enemies, bribe the politicians, oust the inevitable anti-mutant groups. They need money.

So hence this society event. Charles hadn't gone to one since his mother died, but then he and Raven had spent the last decade living off his trust fund, something which would be emptied very quickly considering the funds they need. It barely survived rebuilding Cerebro.

They need money, they need to invest and be seen as good investments. They need to know where to put their money for the best return. And for that, they need to start attending these events.

Erik's desire not to be here is greater, if possible, than Charles' own, but at least he's got the privilege of relevant conversation. The usual sharks are attending, drawn by the curiosity of seeing the son of Brian Xavier re-entering society at last after so many years away. And with a Dominant, no less, they sniff around hungrily, weighing Erik up, eager to see if he's a foolish tool they can bilk out of the Xavier fortune.

Charles spent most of the evening overseeing these interactions, alerting Erik to intentions and possible ploys to use. He doesn't need to do much, as this, combined with Erik's usual forbidding demeanour, is enough to impress on these men of power that the new holder of the Xavier fortune is not someone to be messed with.

Unfortunately, this doesn't leave Charles with much to do. The Submissive liberation of the 1940s and 50s seems to have stopped at the venue's impressive doors, and Charles is stuck with the glittering, flighty crowd of Submissives. Laughter like birds', light flashing off bangles and rings, and jewel studded collars that make Charles feel stupidly underdressed.

It's idiotic, he's certainly not stinting himself on that account, with a fine outfit in blue and black, with the plunging neckline of current Submissive fashion, showing off neck, collar and the fine lines of his throat. It's not as daring and revealing as some of the outfits worn here, but it's nothing to sneer at.

Normally Charles would have had Raven to talk to at these events. As she was young and an unattached Dominant, she would have been free to stay with him. Now, she fully refused to come.

_ I only just found Irene and now you're asking me to leave her for an evening? You have your tortures Charles; don't ask us to share them._

Oh well.

Erik breaks off a conversation with an oil speculator and turns away to find a drink of something before he starts smashing things. Charles smiles. _You're doing wonderfully, love. None of us could do this without you._

_I blame you for making me take this on, Charles._

_ And we all appreciate your sacrifice. Now, that one there, the one in a blue suit. Yes, him. He's a politician, not a bad one to have on our side. Open to integration and civil rights, when we make our move he could be a valuable ally with the right support._

"My, if it isn't young Xavier."

Charles jumps, hand dropping from the side of his head - an affectation he can't seem to get rid of- and turns to the shocking familiar voice.

Emma Frost is a beautiful as she was in Russia, dressed in a sheer white dress and gleaming high heels which on her seem more like weapons than fashion. Collarless yet here with the Submissives, she's got every eye on her.

Charles controls himself with difficulty and reaches out to Erik- _no, wait, stop. I've got this. She wouldn't do anything here, and even if she did, I can stop her._

"Ms Frost." He inclines his head, every inch the polite Submissive. She smiles.

_ Oh for- _Erik struggles against Charles, the drive to protect trashing like a caged beast inside_._

_ I've got this. We can't jeopardise everything we've done here in attacking her._

"Done with your little chat?" Everything in Emma's voice and posture evokes nothing but polite interest. The smugness is entirely from her mind. "Then maybe you could indulge me for a little while."

"A pleasure." Charles' smile is tight. Erik's on the verge of ordering him _out now_.

_Please, I want to talk to her. I will tell you if there's anything amiss. Shaw's dead. there nothing she can do or hope to do._

"So nice of you to call off your pet Dominant." Emma says sweetly as they walk to the balcony. "I would so hate to see a repeat of Russia."

"It was necessary." Is all Charles can say on that.

"And so was killing Shaw?" She's still smiling, Charles' surprise must have been loud enough to feel, because she laughs like shattering crystal. "Oh please. I know your Lehnsherr couldn't have done it. Sebastian wasn't in the habit of making creatures that can destroy him."

"He made you." Charles pushes carefully.

"And you saw how close he kept me." She smile is sour now, a twist of bitter glass. "He would never have let Lehnsherr go if he thought he had a chance of harming him. Sebastian was oh so careful about that. But you, he didn't see you coming at all, did he?"

"Do you have a reason for calling me out here?" Charles snaps. The last thing he wants to do is talk about _Shaw_ of all people. The man's dead, and Charles and Erik made sure his legacy never even existed.

"You really hate him, don't you?" She croons; pleased to have found buttons she can press.

"And you don't?" Two can play at that game. "I saw what he did to you." He touches the side of his head.

Her smile vanishes like a spark in a snowstorm. Rigid ice. "When you live in hell, what is it to you if it spreads a little more?"

"What do you want, Emma?" Charles sighs. He doesn't want to do this, to probe at the wounds a petty and twisted man left on them both.

The smile is back. "The same thing as you, darling. To mix, to mingle, to make a few connections."

Interest piqued, Charles cocks his head. "You and Angel, is that what you're planning?"

"Like you? Yes. We all need a place to go if the illustrious Xavier mansion is closed to us."

Stung, Charles frowns. "It's not closed. If you were to come-"

"We'd be welcomed with open arms? Honey, you know better than that. Your little Dominant wouldn't let me in the grounds; and Angel... Why would you think she wants to be anywhere near you?"

It still hurts; that failure. "We're not on opposite sides. We're just trying to survive, like you."

"By hiding? That won't work, and I can see you know it."

"If we're going to be discovered, I want it to be done properly. Do you want Shaw to be the face of our kind?"

Emma stops, and those words have hit home. She's silent for a long moment, staring into the darkness beyond the house. "No." Finally. "He had... I thought he had... ideas. But he was insane." She laughs, short and hard. "Very well, you build your big reveal, Charles. Who knows, it might just work. But we'll be you there, when you fail. For those you cannot help."

She looks at him, and Charles can see the gaping holes in her mind, the remains of the wasteland it had been when he had last seen it. The wounds slowly healing through time and distance. And, coming slowly to the fore, the aching, scraping pain of a broken bond. Charles flinches away.

Satisfied, Emma starts to walk off in a flurry of snowflake white. "Wait."

She turns. Charles takes a deep breath to steel himself, and meets her gaze again despite the pain. "Yes then. Do it, find those we can't help. But remember, we are not enemies. We're on the same side, we want the same things. Our kind, alive and thriving. We can agree on that, at least."

Emma pauses, looking at him, taking him in; the slight, slender Submissive in his carefully cut clothes, the collar a mark of ownership around his neck, and inside, she can see his determination, every plan propping up the goal: mutants alive and strong and unafraid of the world.

"We'll be in touch, I daresay." Then Emma's gone, and Charles is left, breathing as though he'd surfaced from long underwater.


End file.
